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four  pages,  illustrated  and  bound  uniform  with  this  book  : 

No.  I.  A  Book  of  Stories:    Patriotism,  Bravery  and  Kindness. 
No.  3.  Glimpses  of  Europe:    Travel  and  Description. 

No.  3.  The  American  Tropics:    Mexico  to  the  Equator. 
No.  4.  Sketches  of  the  Orient:    Scenes  in  Asia. 
No.  5.  Old  Ocean :    Winds,  Currents  and  Perils. 
No.  6.  I/ife  in  the  Sea:    Fish  and  Fishing. 

No.  7.  Bits  of  Bird  I/ife :    Habits,  Nests  and  Eggs. 

No.  8.  Our  I/ittle  Neighbors:   insects,  Small  Animals. 
No.  9.  At  Home  in  the  Forest:    Wild  Animals. 

No.  10.  In  Alaska:    Animals  and  Resources. 

No.  II.  Among-  the  Rockies  :    Scenery  and  Travel. 

No.  12.  In  the  Southwest:  Semi-Tropical  Regions. 
No.  13.  On  the  Plains:    Pioneers  and  Ranchmen. 

No.  14.  The  Great  I^ake  Country:    A  Land  of  Progress. 
No.  15.  On  the  Gulf:    Attractive  Regions  of  Contrasts. 
No.  16.  Along  the  Atlantic:    New  York  to  Georgia. 
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The  Companion  Library. 

Number  Sixteen. 


SELECTIONS 
From  The  Youth's  Companion. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  CAPITOL  HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD.  3 

MOUNT  VERNON  HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD.  9 

WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHPLACE  JOHN  W.  EWING.  13 

THE  LURAY  CAVERN  MORTON  DEXTER.  16 

ON  THE  CAROLINA  BANKS        .       .       .       .       .    THOMAS  C.  HARRIS.  21 

GEORGIA  CRACKERS    ....       ..      .       .      W.  F.  PATTERSON.  26 

PEANUTS   GEORGE  B.  SPEAR.  32 

CHESAPEAKE  OYSTERS  THOMAS  W.  KNOX.  37 

MARYLAND  FISHING-FARMS       ....  AGNES  BAILEY  ORMSBEE.  42 

HOW  MILK  IS  MARKETED  CHARLES  MClLVAINE.  46 

THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  MAX  OWEN.  51 

THE  BROOKLYN  BRIDGE                                         WILLIAM  H.  RIDEING.  55 

THE  GRANT  MONUMENT  C.  A.  STEPHENS.  59 

ELEVATED  RAILROADS  MAX  OWEN.  62 


Copyright,  1898. 
PERRY  MASON  &  COMPANY, 

Boston,  Mass. 


\ 


The  Capitol. 


No  true  American  can  go  to  Washington  and  gaze  upon  the 
great  white  Temple  of  lyiberty  on  Capitol  Hill  without  feeling 
his  heart  beat  high  with  pride  and  patriotism.  Critics  may  tell 
us  that  it  will  not  be  a  perfect  building  until  the  central  front 
is  built  out  beyond  the  front  of  the  wings,  and  until  the  main 
dome  is  supported  by  lesser  domes  that  are  visible.  But 
nobody  cares  for  critics  when  looking  at  the  marble  pile  rising 
over  the  velvet  turf  and  lifting  its  snowy  dome  like  a  cloud 
itself  among  the  clouds. 

Wherever  you  go,  in  Washington  or  its  neighborhood,  turn 
about,  and  there  is  the  dome  looking  over  your  shoulder.  You 
see  it  as  you  approach  the  city,  you  see  it  when  you  are  far 
down  the  river,  you  see  it  from  Arlington  Heights,  from  the 
Maryland  hills,  and  out  at  the  Soldier's  Home,  not  only 
through  the  famous  Vista,  where  it  rises  out  of  the  surrounding 
branches  all  by  itself,  like  a  phantom  of  old  Rome,  but  as  you 
look  over  a  charming  landscape  where  the  Potomac  gleams 
like  a  silver  thread  out  of  the  deep  blue  of  the  haze  on  the 
horizon. 

The  Capitol  stands  almost  in  the  centre  of  the  plan  of  the 
city.  The  corner-stone  was  laid  in  1793  by  Washington. 
The  building  was  of  freestone  from  Acquia  Creek,  painted 
white,  and  was  originally  much  smaller  and  more  symmetrical. 
It  was  burned  by  the  British  in  the  War  of  181 2,  and  was  only 
rebuilt  after  a  stormy  debate  in  Congress,  assembled  in  tempo- 
rary quarters.  But  with  the  growth  of  the  country  it  was 
found  much  too  small ;  the  extensions  were  ordered,  the 
corner-stone  was  laid,  with  Daniel  Webster  as  the  orator  of 
the  day,  and  they  were  completed  in  1863.  The  structure 
has  cost,  in  all,  about  thirteen  million  dollars. 

One  would  gather  little  idea  of  the  size  of  this  building  by 
being  told  that  it  is  seven  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long  by  three 


4 


THE  CAPITOL. 


hundred  and  twenty-five  broad  ;  one  might  better  comprehend 
it,  perhaps,  on  learning  that  its  ground  plan  occupies  three 
and  a  half  acres. 

As  you  stand  before  it  you  see  that  it  consists  of  the  old 
building  in  the  centre,  a  beautiful  thing  in  itself,  of  classic 
style,  connected  on  each  side  by  a  corridor  of  fluted  columns 
with  the  vast  wings,  which  are  built  of  white  marble  from 
Massachusetts,  and  are  each  a  temple  in  itself.  The  one  on 
the  south  side  is  the  Senate  wing  ;  the  other  is  used  by  the 
House  of  Representatives.  The  whole  building  stands  upon  a 
basement  of  granite,  and  beneath  that  is  a  sub-basement,  hidden 
by  the  green  turf  of  the  terraces. 

Each  of  the  wings  has  three  porticoes  of  fluted  Corinthian 
columns,  every  column  cut  from  a  single  piece  of  marble.  A 
carriageway  runs  under  the  eastern  porticoes,  by  which  one 
enters  the  basement,  the  middle  entrance  opening  into  the 
Crypt.  On  the  fronts  are  the  most  superb  staircases  of 
white  marble  that  can  be  imagined,  supported  by  immense 
blocks  or  buttresses,  and  so  broad  and  lofty  that  when  one 
looks  at  either  of  them  one  only  remembers  the  motto  :  Sic  itur 
ad  astra.    And  so  it  is  indeed. 

As  you  mount  the  central  one  of  the  flights,  you  observe  on 
the  pediment,  a  group  carved  in  high  relief  representing  the 
Genius  of  America  replying  to  flattering  Hope  by  pointing  to 
Justice  holding  the  Constitution  ;  a  corresponding  group,  by 
Crawford,  occupies  the  same  position  on  the  front  of  the  Senate 
wing. 

On  the  flat  top  of  the  upper  buttress  of  the  main  stairway 
are  two  groups  of  statuary,  one  representing  Columbus  holding 
a  globe,  with  an  Indian  girl  at  his  feet ;  and  the  other  repre- 
senting Civilization,  or  the  Settlement  of  America,  by  means  of 
a  hunter  with  his  dog  saving  a  woman  and  her  boy  from  the 
tomahawk  of  an  Indian. 

The  portico  itself  here  is  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long, 
and  carries  twenty-four  columns,  each  thirty  feet  high.  In 
niches  at  either  side  of  the  great  doors  are  colossal  figures  of 


The  Rogers  Bronze  Doors. 


6 


THK  CAPITOL. 


Peace  and  War,  and  over  the  doors  is  another  bas-relief 
representing  Fame  and  Peace  crowning  Washington. 

Here  open  the  great  Rogers  Bronze  Doors,  nine  feet  wide 
and  seventeen  feet  high,  of  solid  bronze,  weighing  ten  tons. 
They  were  designed  in  1858,  and  cast  in  bronze  three  years 
later  at  a  total  cost  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  They 
represent  scenes  in  the  life  of  Columbus,  and  attract  attention 
not  only  because  of  their  historical  interest,  but  also  by  the 
harmony  of  design,  and  the  beauty  and  skill  with  which  their 
panels  are  marked  out. 

As  you  pause  and  look  back,  you  have  the  Capitol 
surfounded  on  every  side  by  an  ample  space  of  greensward  ; 
directly  in  front  of  it  stretches  a  paved  space  in  which  is 
Greenough's  huge  statue  of  Washington,  and  on  either  side  of 
that  and  beyond  it,  picturesquely  enclosed  by  low  copings 
of  colored  stone,  is  a  park  exquisitely  laid  out  with  flowers  and 
urns,  fountains  and  lamps  and  many  trees. 

Over  all  this  beauty  towers  the  dome,  rising  from  base  to 
crest  a  height  of  three  hundred  and  seven  feet.  As  it  clears 
the  top  of  the  building,  it  rests  first  on  an  octagonal  base  ; 
above  that  it  is  enclosed  by  columns  twenty-seven  feet  high, 
surrounded  by  a  balustrade  ;  at  the  apex  is  the  lantern,  fifty 
feet  in  height,  surrounded  by  another  row  of  pillars,  and  on 
the  top  of  the  lantern  is  Crawford's  colossal  bronze  statue  of 
Freedom.  This  dome  is  entirely  of  iron,  painted  white,  and 
weighs  a  little  more  than  eight  million  pounds.  It  is  supported 
by  solid  masonry,  and  by  forty  columns  carrying  arches  which 
uphold  the  floor  of  the  rotunda. 

It  is  not,  by  any  means,  the  largest  dome  in  the  world  ; 
there  are  several  larger,  but  we  doubt  if  there  are  any  more 
beautiful,  more  buoyant  and  perfect.  So  you  would  think  if 
you  sometimes  saw  it  early  in  the  morning  with  the  mist 
streaming  away  from  it  as  clouds  are  stripped  from  a  mountain 
side  ;  or  at  night  when  the  light  burns  at  the  summit,  and 
shines  over  the  town,  announcing  that  Congress  is  in  session, 
and  almost  giving  it  a  place  among  the  stars. 


I^HK  CAPITOI.. 


7 


In  summer,  sometimes,  when  Congress  sits  in  the  night, 
and  the  radiance  gleams  from  the  dome  and  from  all  the 
windows,  and  the  moon  shines  full  upon  it,  the  great  white 
splendor,  sitting  in  the  dense  greenery  of  its  trees,  has  seemed 
the  very  palace  of  light  itself.  One  hardly  knows  whether  it 
is  more  beautiful  then,  or  when,  unlighted  above,  on  a  dark 
night,  the  lamps  twinkle  in  long  distances  under  the  arches  of 


Capitol  from  the  Mall. 


the  outer  basement,  the  lines  of  columns  retreat  spectrally 
into  the  gloom,  and  the  dome  soars  above,  a  shadow  on  the 
shadow  of  the  midnight  heavens ;  or  when,  on  a  spring 
morning,  as  one  comes  up  the  avenue,  one  sees  it  throned 
above  the  tree-tops  of  the  western  side,  that  rise  from  banks 
purple  with  violets. 

The  chief  attractions  of  the  Capitol  belong  to  the  seasons 
when  Congress  holds  its  most  important  sessions,  but  its 
outward  beauty  is  best  displayed  in  summer-time. 

Harriet  Prkscott  Spofford. 


Mount  Vernon 


A  trip  to  Mount  Vernon  is  one  of  the  chief  pleasures  of  the 
springtime  to  visitors  in  Washington.  The  steamer  leaves 
the  wharf  every  morning,  skirts  the  low,  green  grounds  of  the 
Arsenal,  and  passes  the  mouth  of  the  Eastern  Branch,  in 
the  bay  of  the  Potomac,  which  is  overlooked  by  Arlington 
Heights,  and  a  little  above  spanned  by  the  Long  Bridge. 

The  steamer  stops  at  Alexandria,  quite  an  ancient  and 
grass-grown  city,  where  there  is  a  church  of  which  George 
Washington  was  a  vestryman.  Pursuing  its  way,  presently 
the  passengers  may  see  a  lighthouse  which  stands  near  the 
Initial  Stone  marking  the  Virginia  boundary  of  the  district, 
and  shortly  after  stopping  at  Fort  Washington  the  boat  touches 
the  little  wharf  at  Mount  Vernon. 

In  a  hollow,  midway  between  the  river  and  the  house,  is 
the  tomb  of  the  Father  of  his  Country.  Near  it  are  the  obelisks 
of  the  later  Washingtons.  Through  the  grating  of  the  door 
may  be  seen  the  two  sarcophagi  which  enclose  the  remains 
of  Washington  and  of  his  wife. 

Here  Lafayette  paused  to  do  honors  to  his  old  companion 
in  arms ;  and  in  pledge  of  peace  is  a  tree  planted  by  the 
grandson  of  the  king  against  whom  he  fought. 

The  mansion  of  Mount  Vernon  stands  on  a  lofty  green 
bluff,  and  commands  a  wide  and  delightful  view  of  rolling 
woods  and  river,  retreating  into  that  alluring  blue  mist 
which  haunts  Southern  horizons. 

The  mansion  house  itself  is  of  wood,  squared  in  blocks,  of 
a  cream  color.  It  has  an  immense  portico  with  stone  steps, 
and  with  large  pillars  going  to  the  top  of  the  second  story, 
which  is  surmounted  by  a  cupola  and  balustrade. 

On  the  lawn  is  a  very  large  magnolia-tree,  planted  by 
Washington  himself,  and  some  ash-trees.  On  one  side  of  the 
house  is  a  garden  also  laid  out  by  Washington.    One  cannot 


lO 


MOUNT  VERNON. 


but  think  how  delightful,  in  the  olden  times,  life  must  have 
been  here  in  summer,  when  the  days  are  long. 

The  estate  was  inherited  by  Washington  when  he  was  about 
twenty  years  of  age,  from  his  eldest  brother  lyawrence,  who  had 
named  it  in  compliment  to  Admiral  Vernon,  with  whom  he  had 
served.  It  had  previously  been  used  for  little  more  than  a 
hunting-lodge.  The  new  owner  added  wings  to  it,  which  gave 
it  its  length  of  nearly  one  hundred  feet. 

Somewhat  removed  from  the  house  are  the  kitchens, 
smokehouse  and  laundry,  the  spinning  and  weaving  houses, 
the  remains  of  the  servants'  quarters  and  the  stables.  New 
conservatories  have  replaced  the  old  ones,  which  were  the 
delight  of  Mrs.  WavShington,  and  which  were  destroyed  by  fire. 
On  the  whole,  it  seems  to  have  been  rather  a  princely  residence 
according  to  the  manner  of  life  in  its  day. 

The  buildings  and  grounds  were  formerly  very  much 
neglected.  In  1856  the  place  was  purchased  by  an  association 
of  ladies,  Mr.  Edward  Everett  writing  and  lecturing  for  some 
time  in  their  aid. 

Within,  the  house  used  to  be  desolate  enough,  cut  up  into 
some  twenty  small,  dark  and  dreary  rooms.  The  dining-room 
was  empty  of  all  save  its  very  splendidly  carved  marble  mantel. 
The  library,  where  Washington  loved  to  sit  over  his  work,  and 
in  which  he  warmed  himself  in  coming  in  from  the  cold  on  the 
last  evening  that  he  spent  out  of  his  bed,  was  stripped  of  every 
book.  In  fact,  nothing  was  left  but  Eleanor  Custis's  harpsi- 
chord to  tell  of  the  old  merry  life. 

But  since  the  ladies  of  the  association  took  it  in  hand  it 
has  presented  a  very  different  aspect.  The  rooms  have  been 
furnished  by  the  ladies  of  various  states  by  restoring  the 
furniture  of  the  family  or  of  the  generation. 

Among  others,  there  is  Lafayette's  room,  fitted  up  appro- 
priately, and  on  entering  Washington's  room  you  will  find 
restored  to  it  the  bed  on  which  he  died.  His  wife,  who  after 
his  death  was  unable  to  open  the  door  of  that  room,  breathed 
her  last,  two  or  three  years  later,  in  the  room  above  it. 


MOUNT  VERNON. 


II 


In  one  of  the  parlors  are  certain  portions  of  Washington's 
garments,  one  of  his  swords,  his  spy-glass,  a  part  of  his  theodo- 
lite. Copies  of  Trumbull's  and  Stuart's  portraits  of  him  are  in 
the  dining-room,  with  Rembrandt  Peale's  painting  of  Yorktown, 
which  portrays  him  with  his   generals   about   him.  Other 


The  Main  Hall  of  the  Mansion. 


paintings  are  on  the  walls,  and  many  objects  of  note  attract 
the  patriotic  stranger. 

But  probably  as  interesting  a  thing  as  any  on  the  place  is 
the  great  key  of  the  Bastile,  which  lyafayette  sent  Washington 
by  the  hand  of  Tom  Paine.  You  feel,  in  looking  at  it,  the 
dreadful  sorrows  and  tragedies  on  which  it  has  turned,  and  it 
seems  like  a  seal  on  our  liberties  to  have  it  hanging  at  last  in 
so  sacred  a  place. 

Outside  the  doors,  the  old  gardens,  set  in  their  high  brick 


12 


MOUNT  VERNON. 


walls,  are  exceedingly  inviting.  The  breast-high  hedges  of 
box  are  full  of  a  spicy  odor.  One  sees  the  descendants  of  some 
of  the  flowers  which  made  life  pleasanter  to  Washington 
himself,  and  one  crushes  wild  hyacinths  in  the  grass  of  the 
lawn  as  one  walks. 

The  question  naturally  arises,  what  spot  can  be  more 
delightful  than  those  lawns  and  gardens  on  the  Virginia  hill- 
sides, with  the  historic  house  close  at  hand,  and  the  senses 

pleased  with  the  odor  of 
flowers,  the  songs  of  birds, 
and  the  beauty  and  stillness 
of  river  and  forest. 

One  is  apt  to  wonder  if 
the  groups,  gaily  lunching 
and  talking  and  exploring, 
have  any  realization  of  the 
greatness  of  the  character 
of  the  man  who  so  often 
paced  these  paths,  and  so 
loved  the  quiet  and  the 
pleasure   of   his   farm  ;  if 

Washington's  Tomb. 

they  appreciate  the  integ- 
rity and  honor  and  cool  courage,  the  dignity  and  devotion  to 
duty,  the  modesty  and  the  magnificence  of  Washington  ;  if  they 
ever  think  that  there  is  no  character  in  history,  among  its 
great  soldiers  and  governors,  of  such  simple  grandeur,  with 
that  equipoise  and  calm  power  which  are  so  sublime. 

Yet  if  we  could  but  know,  doubtless  we  vShould  learn  that 
there  are  few  who  do  not  have  their  love  of  country  and  of 
all  manly  virtues  stirred  by  a  visit  to  Mount  Vernon,  and  that, 
as  the  bell  rings  and  the  boat  is  off,  every  visitor  had  been 
thinking  much  the  same  thought. 

Harriet  PrEvSCott  Spofford. 


Washington's  Birthplace. 

In  Westmoreland  County,  Virginia,  on  the  western  bank  of 
the  famous  Potomac  River  and  about  seventy  miles  from  the 
city  of  Washington,  lies  Wakefield,  the  birthplace  of  the 
Father  of  our  Country.  The  old  homestead  is  about  one  mile 
west  of  the  town,  and  upon  the  crest  of  a  small  hill  at  Pope's 
Creek,  overlooking  a  broad  expanse  of  the  Potomac. 

The  house  itself  was  a  plain  four-roomed  structure  with  an 
immense  brick  chimney  built  on  the  outside  at  each  end.  In 
the  best  room  was  a  large  chimneypiece  of  Dutch  tiles, 
ornamented  with  rude  Scriptural  scenes. 

When  Washington  was  a  small  child  the  house  was  burned 
to  the  ground,  and  the  family  moved  to  another  house  on  his 
father's  estate  near  Fredericksburg.  This  second  home  so 
much  resembled  the  Wakefield  house  that  a  picture  of  it  gives 
a  fair  representation  of  Washington's  birthplace. 

All  that  remained  of  the  first  home  was  one  chimney  which, 
being  big  and  built  of  very  large,  sound  bricks,  stood  until  the 
autumn  of  1893,  when  it  was 
blown  over.  The  ruins  are  a 
great  heap  of  brick  and  mortar. 
The  bricks  are  about  twice  the 
size  of  those  made  nowadays, 
and  the  name  of  the  English 
manufacturer  is  stamped  on  the 
back  of  each. 

The  mortar  is  very  firm  and 
hard,  despite  its  exposure  to  the 
elements  for  over  a  century.  The  pile  of  debris  is  still  almost 
intact,  for  relic-hunters  do  not  go  there.  Indeed,  most  people 
think  that  Washington  was  born  at  Mount  Vernon,  which  he 
inherited  from  his  brother  Lawrence,  with  whom  he  lived  much 
of  the  time  after  their  father's  death. 


WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHPLACE. 


The  birthplace  has  not  always  been  forgotten,  for  in  the 
year  1815,  George  Washington  Parke  Custis,  the  grandson  of 
Mrs.  Washington,  placed  on  the  old  foundations  of  the  house  a 
suitable  piece  of  freestone  inscribed  with  the  words,  "Here, 
the  nth  of  February,  1732,  George  Washington  was  born," 
but  no  care  whatever  has  been  taken  to  preserve  that  tablet. 

After  many  years  of  neglect  steps  have  been  taken  to  mark 
Washington's  birthplace  with  a  suitable  monument.  Such  a 
memorial  was  suggested  many  years  ago,  but  it  was  not  until 


Site  of  Washington  s  Birthplace. 


June,  1879,  that  Congress  took  any  action  in  the  matter.  Then 
an  appropriation  of  three  thousand  dollars  was  secured,  and 
the  Secretary  of  State  was  instructed  to  see  that  it  was  properly 
expended. 

Nothing  was  done  till  the  following  year,  when  Mr.  Kvarts, 
then  Secretary  of  State,  after  he  had  returned  from  a  visit  to 
Wakefield,  asked  an  increase  in  the  appropriation  to  thirty 
thousand  dollars.  He  also  submitted  designs  for  a  commem- 
orative structure,  to  be  built  of  granite  with  a  tiled  roof,  and  a 
bronze  tablet  bearing  an  appropriate  inscription. 


WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHPLACE. 


15 


Bronze  doors  and  windows  were  to  be  so  arranged  with 
screens  that  the  interior  of  the  structure  might  be  plainly  seen 
from  the  outside.  The  proposed  building  would  require  no 
care  ;  would  be  dignified  and  graceful  in  proportions,  and  be 
constructed  to  endure  for  centuries. 

In  the  year  1881  Congress  granted  the  appropriation  of 
thirty  thousand  dollars  for  the  purchase  of  the  old  homestead 
and  erection  of  a  monument.  The  Secretary  of  State 
immediately  secured  the  transfer  of  the  property  to  the 
government,  with  the  right  of  way  to  a  suitable  landing-place. 

Then  authority  was  asked  for  the  construction  of  a  wharf  of 
iron  screw-piles  with  a  timber  deck.  Nothing  was  done  in  the 
matter  for  almost  nine  years  ;  then  Congress  authorized  its 
construction,  at  a  cost  limited  to  eleven  thousand  dollars,  to 
be  deducted  from  the  original  appropriation  of  thirty  thousand 
dollars.  The  Secretary  of  State  at  once  delegated  the 
execution  of  the  work,  and  in  1894  it  was  completed. 

So  now  all  the  work  is  done  with  the  exception  of  erecting 
the  memorial  structure,  the  character  of  which  has  not  yet  been 
decided  upon.  Perhaps  a  simpler  and  more  rugged"  structure 
would  be  better  suited  to  the  character  of  Washington. 

When  Washington's  birthplace  shall  have  been  properly 
marked,  it  is  probable  that  many  who  make  the  pilgrimage  to 
his  tomb  at  Mount  Vernon  will  continue  their  journey  a  few 
miles  farther  down  the  river  to  the  old  homestead  where  his 
inestimable  life  began. 

John  W.  Ewing. 


The  Luray  Cavern 


The  Luray  Cavern,  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  in  Virginia, 
is  so  much  superior  to  the  Mammoth  Cave  in  beauty,  that  a 
competent  observer,  who  has  visited  both,  has  compared  them 
respectively  to  a  lady's  parlor  and  a  great  barn. 

About  a  mile  west  of  the  little  town  of  Luray  lies  a  gently 
rising  ridge,  under  which  the  cavern  extends.  You  might 
drive  by  the  spot  a  hundred  times  without  suspecting  the 
existence  of  anything  remarkable.  Indeed,  the  cavern  was 
not  discovered  until  1878,  when  a  strolling  photographer 
blundered  upon  its  mouth  and  entered  it.  Even  to-day  it 
contains  galleries  and  recesses  which  never  have  been  fully 
explored. 

But  it  has  become  so  well  known  that  more  than  ten 
thousand  persons  visit  it  annually  ;  and  so  great  are  the 
variety  and  beauty  of  its  formations  that  a  committee,  specially 
sent  from  the  Smithsonian  Institution  in  Washington  to 
examine  it,  has  reported  that,  "Comparing  this  great  natural 
curiosity  with  others  of  the  same  class,  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
there  is  probably  no  other  cave  in  the  world  more  completely 
and  profusely  decorated  with  stalactites  and  stalagmites  than 
the  Luray." 

The  cavern  is  a  great  hollow  in  a  long  limestone  range. 
Its  cause  was  the  passing  of  a  current  of  water  through  the 
limestone  while  this  was  in  process  of  hardening  during  some 
past  period.  After  the  hollow  had  been  shaped  roughly,  drops 
of  water,  each  containing  a  minute  quantity  of  lime  in  solution, 
began  to  drip  from  the  top.  Some  clung  to  the  roof  and  to 
each  other  long  enough  to  deposit  their  burden  of  lime,  and 
thus  points  of  limestone,  like  icicles,  gradually  extended 
downward.    These  are  called  stalactites. 

Other  drops  fell  to  the  floor,  and  built  up  a  series  of 
pinnacles  known  as  stalagmites. 


the:  luray  cavkrn. 


17 


In  time,  as  the  stalactites  grew  down,  while  the  stalagmites 
beneath  them  rose  higher,  many  united  and  formed  massive 
yet  graceful  columns.  Some  drippings  from  the  side  walls 
grew  out  and  crystallized  at  various  angles,  and  in  many 
diverse  shapes,  into  formations  properly  called  stalactites,  but 
also  termed  helictites. 

These  processes  still  continue,  but  are  so  gradual  that  their 
annual  accumulations  are  perceptible  only  by  the  most  skilful 
measurements.  Their  result  is  a  palace  of  wonders  surpassing 
the  most  marvellous  de- 
scriptions of  fairy -  land 
which  the  human  fancy 
has  invented. 

Entering  the  little  house 
above  its  mouth,  the  visitor 
pays  a  dollar,  puts  on  over- 
shoes to  guard  against  the 
damp  floor  of  the  interior, 
receives  a  tin  reflector 
holding  a  candle  or  two, 
and  follows  his  guide  into 
the  opening. 

The  principal  halls  and 
galleries  have  been  supplied  with  incandescent  electric  lights  ; 
but  candles  still  are  necessary  to  illuminate  the  deeper  recesses, 
and  also  many  particular  formations,  the  beauty  of  which  is  in 
the  exquisite  proportion  and  finish  of  their  details. 

Without  expert  aid  many  of  -the  most  noteworthy  sights 
would  be  overlooked.  The  guide  also  acts  as  a  watchman, 
for  thoughtless  or  malicious  visitors  have  injured  certain 
formations  in  an  effort  to  obtain  souvenirs. 

The  guide  leads  the  way  down  a  dim,  sloping  passage.  As 
you  emerge  into  the  light  cast  by  an  electric  burner,  he 
remarks,  "  This  is  the  Vegetable  Market."  You  look  around 
and  catch  your  breath  in  surprise. 

In  a  large  alcove  at  one  side  you  behold,  hanging  from  the 


Fish  Market. 


i8 


THK  I,URAY  CAVERN. 


roof  or  the  walls,  or  piled  upon  the  floor,  what  seem  to  be 
hundreds  of  beets,  carrots,  turnips,  potatoes,  bunches  of 
asparagus  and  heads  of  cabbage,  each  only  a  stone,  yet  almost 
as  perfect  a  reproduction  of  the  familiar  vegetable  as  if  a  skilful 
sculptor  had  chiselled  it. 

You  find  it  hard  to  believe  that  nature  alone  is  responsible 
for  these  apparent  carvings.  They  bear  examination,  too. 
The  illusion  does  not  vanish.  It  does  not  depend  upon 
contrasts  of  light  and  shade,  nor  much  upon  the  aid  of  the 
imagination.  They  are  nearly  as  like  vegetables  as  if  they 
had  been  carted  in  from  the  neighboring  farms. 

Soon  you  enter  the  Fish  Market,  which  is  similarly  amazing. 
Here  the  limestone  has  taken  the  forms  of  fishes,  and  you  seem 
to  see  tons  of  perch,  trout,  bass  and  shad  hanging  or  lying  in 
orderly  rows.  The  illusion  is  completed  by  the  drops  of  water 
which  drip  from  their  tails. 

Turning  a  corner,  you  enter  next  a  vast  gallery,  five 
hundred  feet  long  and  one  hundred  wide.  Although  not 
proportionately  high,  it  is  larger  than  many  a  cathedral.  It  is 
the  Elfin  Ramble  ;  and  if  ever  the  underground  fairies  desired 
a  play-room  vast  enough  for  a  multitude  at  once  and  full  of 
hiding-places,  they  had  it  here. 

A  little  farther  on  a  shallow  pit  is  seen,  which  has  a  petrified 
human  bone  embedded  in  its  bottom.  The  guide  here  relates 
the  legend  of  Massanutto,  an  Indian  chief,  said  to  have  deserted 
his  squaw  for  a  pale-faced  bride,  and  therefore  to  have  been 
shut  into  the  cavern  to  die  by  his  tribe. 

But  what  is  this?  A  blanket  hung  from  a  line?  Yes,  and 
not  only  in  shape,  size  and  apparent  texture  does  it  seem 
genuine,  but  red  bands  run  evenly  across  it,  a  few  inches 
from  the  edge,  reproducing  the  stripes  upon  a  real  blanket. 

And  what  is  this  ?  You  hardly  need  the  guide's  reply, 
"  This  is  the  Saracen's  Tent."  The  peculiar,  dome-like  canopy 
and  the  gracefully  flowing  curtains  which  formed  the  Oriental 
tent  are  before  you  in  this  stately  yet  exquisite  structure  of 
stone,  into  which  you  actually  can  enter. 


THE  LURAY  CAVERN. 


19 


Next  conies  the  Giants'  Hall,  less  beautiful  than  grand, 
but  fit  for  an  assembly  of  the  Titans,  containing  several 
enormous  connected  rooms  forming  one  huge  apartment. 
Gigantic  columns  rise  on  either  side,  some  simple  shafts,  of 
which  the  only  striking  features  are  their  massiveness  or  their 
symmetry,  and  others  adorned  with  capitals  and  decorative 
work,  like  those  of  the  old  Egyptian  temples. 

Hovey's  Hall,  near  by,  exhibits  quite  a  number  of 
well-proportioned  statues, 
some  being  draped  with  much 
grace.  These  lack  distinct 
features,  but  at  a  short  dis- 
tance one  almost  might 
imagine  one's  self  in  the 
lyouvre.  One  such  statue, 
dimly  visible  in  Pluto's 
Chasm,  a  deep  cleft  in  the 
side  of  the  cavern,  well 
merits  its  title,  the  Spectre. 

An  object  which  lingers 
long  in  memory  is  Titania's 
Veil.  Passing  around  an 
enormous  column  into  a 
huge  recess,  one  perceives, 
as  it  hangs  loosely  in  folds 
from  a  sort  of  branch,  a  sur- 
face resembling  the  veil  of  a 
bride.  It  is  transparent,  and  its  texture  and  ornamentation 
are  like  those  of  delicate  lace.  No  masterpiece  of  the  looms 
of  Brussels  or  Valenciennes  ever  surpassed  its  indescribable 
elegance.  It  appeals  most  strongly  to  the  feminine  eye,  3'et 
all  appreciate  something  of  its  rare  beauty. 

Another  charming  spot  is  the  Bridal  Chamber,  which 
contains  many  of  the  furnishings  of  such  a  room.  There  is  a 
cathedral  also,  which  alone  would  reward  a  visit,  with  its  fine 
columns  and  the  tracery  of  its  roof.    Moreover,  it  contains  an 


20 


THK  I.URAY  CAVERN. 


organ,  which  has  pipes  ahiiost  as  regular  as  those  to  be  seen  at 
York  or  Canterbury. 

The  Chimes  deserve  mention,  too.  At  one  point  the  guide 
indicates  a  group  of  five  small  columns,  by  striking  which  with 

a  mallet  he  produces  a  succession 
of  sweet,  bell-like  tones  delight- 
fully musical. 

At  another  place  a  frozen 
cascade,  as  wide  and  high  as  the 
side  of  a  large  house  and  glitter- 
ing like  an  Alpine  glacier,  leaps 
from  the  wall  of  a  deep  recess. 

The  prevailing  color  of  the 
walls  is  a  dull  cream- white,  but 
there  are  streaks  or  surfaces  as 
dazzling  as  alabaster,  and  others 
are  tinted  in  red  or  blue.  Here 
and  there  in  the  cavern  also  are 
charming  pools,  and  even  lakelets, 
so  transparent  as  to  be  almost 
invisible.  Indeed,  many  a  visitor 
has  stepped  into  one  before  dis- 
covering where  he  was. 
a  few  of  the  wonders  of  the  lyuray  Cavern  ;  it 
describe  them  adequately.  That  there  is  a 
limit  to  the  power  of  language  is  never  realized  more  distinctly 
than  when  one  tries  to  portray  such  marvels. 


Frozen  Fountain. 

These  are  but 
is  impossible  to 


Morton  Dkxter. 


On  the  Carolina  Banks. 

Bogue  Banks  is  the  name  given  to  the  strip,  or  rather  the 
strips,  of  land  which  lie  off  the  coast  of  North  Carolina,  and 
follow  its  course  from  Beaufort  Inlet  toward  Wilmington.  The 
banks  vary  in  width  from  a  few  hundred  yards  to  two  or  three 
miles,  but  whether  wide  or  narrow,  they  are  nothing  but 
sand-banks. 

Along  the  entire  seaboard  of  North  Carolina  the  mainland  is 
separated  from  the  ocean  by  a  narrow  fringe  of  such  sand-banks, 
leaving  Currituck,  Albemarle  and  Pamlico  Sounds  on  the  land 
side  of  them,  and  forming  a  frail  and  insignificant-looking  but 
impassable  barrier  to  the  ocean  waves.  At  intervals  these 
banks  are  perforated  by  inlets,  which  form  a  means  of  passage 
from  the  sound  to  the  ocean. 

Since  they  are  composed  almost  entirely  of  fine  white  sand, 
the  surface  of  these  banks  is  constantly  moved  and  shifted 
by  the  winds,  and  heaped  up  into  conical  hillocks  called 
sand-dunes,  which  are  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  feet  in  height. 

Along  the  ocean  side  the  banks  are  almost  entirely  destitute 
of  vegetation,  and  no  sooner  does  the  wind  drift  the  sand  into  a 
little  hillock  than  it  begins  to  tear  it  down  and  move  it  else- 
where, or  to  carve  it  into  fantastic  shapes  by  its  ever- varying 
changes  of  direction. 

Sometimes  a  hill  of  considerable  size  seems  to  move  bodily 
in  one  direction  without  a  change  of  shape,  and  even  to 
overwhelm  houses  if  they  happen  to  be  in  the  way. 

The  movement  is  merely  one  of  the  surface  sand,  and  if  the 
wind  happens  to  blow  for  a  long  time  in  one  direction, 
the  constant  movement  of  loose  particles  from  one  side  steadily 
cuts  away  that  side  of  the  hill,  only  to  deposit  the  material  on 
the  lee  side  of  the  hill,  where  the  draught  is  not  so  strong. 
This  will  account  for  the  apparent  movement  of  the  whole 
mass  together. 


22  ON  THE  CAROLINA  BANKS. 

It  is  a  curious  sight  to  stand  on  a  tall  dune  and  see  miles  of 
these  conical  hills  of  snow-white  sand,  with  the  constant 
thunder  of  the  Atlantic  waves  on  one  side,  and  the  placid 
waters  of  the  sound  and  its  fleet  of  little  fishing  craft  and 
oyster-boats  on  the  other. 

During  heavy  gales  from  the  east,  the  ocean  spray  is  blown 
entirely  across  the  narrow  places,  and  the  waves  sometimes 
bury  many  acres  out  of  sight  for  a  time,  making  such  places 
too  dangerous  for  a  habitation.  A  complete  system  of  life- 
saving  stations  is  in  operation  during  the  winter  months. 

Occasional  areas  of  tall  marsh-grass,  with  patches  of 
live-oak  and  palmetto,  form  the  only  green  coloring  to  the 

scene.  Droves  of  wild  ponies,  called 
bankers,  subsist  on  the  scanty  veg- 
etation. They  wade  far  out  into 
the  sound  for  the  marsh-grass,  and 
paw  holes  among  the  sand-hills  to 
procure  fresh  water. 

Once  a  year  these  ponies  are 
corralled  by  the  owners,  and  the 
occasion  is  called  a  pony-penning. 
At  such  times  the  young  colts  are 
branded,  and  the  surplus  stock  is 
carried  to  the  mainland  for  sale. 
The  ponies  are  rough  and  hardy  little  animals,  and  need  to 
be  broken  to  the  saddle  or  harness  like  the  wild  horses  of  the 
Western  prairies.  When  first  taken  from  their  native  shores 
they  know  no  food  except  marsh-grass,  and  need  to  be  taught 
to  eat  in  a  civilized  manner  of  hay  and  oats.  Sometimes  one 
will  almost  starve  before  learning  to  take  strange  food  out  of  a 
manger. 

A  sparse  population  of  hardy  fishermen  inhabit  these  banks, 
and  subsist  mainly  on  fish  and  game.  They  are  practically 
cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  seem  to  know  and  care 
nothing  for  its  fashions  and  follies. 

They  are  content  to  eke  out  a  scanty  subsistence,  with  an 


Bankers. 


ON  THE  CAROIylNA  BANKS. 


23 


occasional  windfall  in  the  way  of  a  wrecked  vessel  or  the 
capture  of  a  whale. 

Perched  on  the  very  top  of  a  small  sand-hill,  near  Fort 
Macon,  there  is  a  strange-looking  hut  or  wigwam  built  of 
rushes  or  tall  grass.  Its  thatched  sides  and  roof  have  a  queer, 
foreign  look,  reminding  one  strongly  of  the  huts  used  by  the 
native  tribes  of  Africa. 

It  is  the  shelter  of  the  fisherman  on  the  watch  for 
whales,  which  are  frequently  seen  and  captured  near  Cape 
lyookout  in  February  and  March.  From  his  elevated  place  the 
sentinel  can  overlook  all  of  that  great  bend  of  the  shore  just 
south  of  the  cape,  and  if  a  whale  blows  within  ten  miles,  he 
hoists  a  flag  to  warn  the  fishing  crew  at  Beaufort,  several  miles 
away  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  sound.  An  exciting 
chase  now  begins.  If  there  are  several  boats  in  the  chase,  the 
different  crews  strain  every  nerve  to  be  first  in  the  battle. 

The  fishermen  here  use  a  peculiar  kind  of  sailboat  called  a 
sharpie,  which  has  a  fiat  bottom,  a  very  sharp  bow  and  an 
immense  centreboard.  It  spreads  a  large  area  of  canvas  in 
triangular  sails,  on  foremast  and  mainmast. 

This  style  of  boat  is  not  often  seen  except  on  this  coast, 
although  it  is  reputed  to  sail  closer  to  the  wind  and  be  faster 
than  any  other.  The  sails  are  strained  very  taut  and  fiat  by 
means  of  a  peculiar  boom  Across  the  lower  and  widest  part  of 
the  sail,  and  this  wnll  explain,  in  part,  its  remarkable  sailing 
qualities.  The  equipment  of  a  crew  consists  of  the  ordinary 
harpoons  and  lances  with  the  addition  of  the  modern  bomb- 
gun.  The  last-named  weapon  is  the  main  dependence  of  our 
whalemen,  and  is  usually  very  effective.  Beaufort  fishermen 
do  not  hesitate  to  follow  a  whale  many  miles  out  to  sea,  for  if 
successful  their  reward  is  great. 

I^arge  numbers  of  porpoise  are  caught  near  these  banks  in 
seines  made  for  the  work.  They  furnish  some  oil,  but  are 
sought  for  mainly  for  their  hides,  which  make  an  excellent 
leather,  very  soft,  strong  and  flexible.  Much  of  it  is  cut  into 
shoe-laces,  to  which  it  is  specially  adapted. 


ON  O'HB^  CAROIvlNA  BANKS. 


The  wooded  parts  of  these  banks  afford  hiding-places  for 
deer,  and  being  not  very  accessible  the  deer  are  not  often 
hunted.  During  the  winter  months  the  sounds  swarm  with 
many  varieties  of  wild  fowl.  Ducks,  brant,  geese  and  swans 
may  be  seen  in  countless  flocks.    To  a  sportsman  fond  of  this 


kind  of  shooting  there  is  abundant  opportunity  to  test  his  skill 
and  endurance. 

In  the  summer  and  autumn  months  the  waters  about  the 
different  inlets  are  alive  with  fish.  Here  the  sport  with  hook 
and  line  is  probably  better  than  it  is  anywhere  else  on  the 
Atlantic  coast.  Trolling  for  bluefish  and  Spanish  mackerel 
is  the  favorite  method  of  fishing,  and  is  quite  exciting.  It 
does  not  differ  except  in  minor  details  from  the  bluefishing  in 
more  northern  waters,  but  is  rather  more  exciting  on  account 
of  the  speed  of  the  boats. 


ON  THK  CAROI.INA  BANKS. 


25 


In  the  more  shallow  Waters  of  the  sounds  bottom-fishing  is 
much  practised,  both  for  pleasure  and  profit.  The  boat 
is  anchored  in  three  or  four  fathoms  of  water,  and  the  fish-lines 
are  dropped  over  the  side. 

Trout,  blackfish,  sheepshead,  small  sharks  and  many  other 
kinds  of  fish  are  thus  caught.  Ladies  and  children  often 
derive  much  pleasure  from  this  style  of  fishing,  and  it  is  a 
frequent  occurrence  to  haul  in  three  or  four  fish  at  once. 

In  places  along  the  shore  are  still  to  be  seen  mounds  and 
shell-heaps  of  considerable  size.  They  are  supposed  to  have 
been  made  by  the  various  tribes  of  Indians  who  frequented 
that  part  of  the  coast  before  the  discovery  of  America  by 
Columbus,  and  who  probably  subsisted  mainly  on  fish.  Bits 
of  broken  pottery  and  stone  implements  leave  no  room  to  doubt 
that  these  shell-heaps  were  the  work  of  the  aborigines. 

In  many  places  along  the  banks  the  Carolina  tea,  called 
yapon,  may  be  seen  growing.  Its  botanical  name  is  Ilex  C as  sine  ^ 
and  it  is  of  the  same  genus  as  the  mate,  or  Paraguay  tea  of 
South  America. 

The  natives  often  use  the  yapon  as  a  beverage,  as  a 
substitute  for  tea  or  coffee,  and  by  many  it  is  highly  esteemed. 
It  possesses  valuable  medicinal  properties  also,  and  was  the 
source  of  the  black  drink  of  the  Southern  Indians,  who 
considered  it  a  panacea. 

Since  these  banks  serve  as  an  effectual  barrier  to  the  ocean 
waves,  and  many  rivers  continue  to  pour  into  the  sounds  their 
constant  streams  of  water  and  sediment,  it  is  merely  a  question 
of  time  that  the  sounds  will  become  more  and  more  shallow, 
until  they  will  finally  appear  as  marshes  of  reeds  and  grass  and 
afterward  dry  land. 

Thomas  C.  Harris. 


Georgia  Crackers. 


Among  the  many  peculiar  sights  that  a  traveller  sees  in  a 
Georgia  town  is  the  clustering  together  on  some  street  of  rough 
and  rickety  carts,  mud-covered,  and  drawn  generally  by  a  bull 
or  an  antiquated  mule. 

There  is  an  air  of  shiftlessness  about  them  which  at  once 
attracts  you  ;  a  piece  of  rope  for  a  trace,  the  harness  patched 
up  and  held  together  with  wire  or  cord  ;  or  it  may  be  the 
driver  is  a  tall,  lank  man  with  a  heavy  growth  of  hair,  a  rough, 
unkempt  beard,  a  broad-brimmed  felt  hat  jammed  down  upon 
his  ears  and  a  general  appearance  as  if  it  were  too  laborious  a 
thing  to  live. 

Whatever  it  is  that  attracts  you,  whether  mule,  or  cart,  or 
owner,  or  perhaps  curiosity  as  to  the  cart's  contents,  at  any 
rate  you  stop  and  ask  a  bystander  who  those  fellows  are  and 
where  they  come  from.  He  will  say,  "Oh,  they're  some  of 
the  po'  white  trash  that  live  out  in  the  country.  Georgia 
Crackers  we  call  'em." 

A  person  cannot  travel  very  far  through  the  South  without 
hearing  frequently  of  the  Crackers,  and  curiosity  at  once 
prompts  you  to  learn  more  of  them.  You  go  up  to  the  group 
and  ask  one  of  them  what  he  has  in  his  cart,  and  a  reply  will 
come  back  in  a  peculiar,  drawly  tone,  Fat-pine  kin'lin's,  two 
bunches  fer  a  nickel.  Come  twenty  mile  with  it  since 
mornin'." 

You  are  not  in  immediate  need  of  kindlings  and  so  move  on 
to  the  next  cart,  which  looks  more  pretentious.  Its  load 
consists  of  two  or  three  pairs  of  chickens,  some  eggs,  and  a 
small  general  assortment  of  dairy  products.  Another  cart  has 
wood,  a  hog  or  a  small  calf,  or  small  holly  or  bay  trees  for 
garden  decoration. 

The  whole  group  forms  a  picture  which  is  highly  interesting. 
These  are  some  of  the  poor  Southern  farmers  called  pretty 


GEORGIA  CRACKKRS. 


^1 


generally  through  the  South,  Crackers,  famous  alike  for  their 
peculiar  mode  of  life,  their  hospitality  and  their  laziness.  As 
is  generally  the  case  with  a  true  lazy  man's  philosophy,  they 
take  great  pains  to  attain  a  very  small  result,  often  coming 
miles  to  a  town  to  sell  a  dollar's  worth  of  goods. 

lyCt  us  follow  one  of  them  in  his  weary  march  homeward, 
over  the  lonely  road,  climbing  up  behind  the  slow,  plodding 
bull,  or  else  walking  beside  the  cart  as  it  winds  its  way 
steadily  through  the  forests  of  yellow  pine  and  oak  trees,  which 
line  the  road  on  either  side. 

The  road-bed  is  of  clay  and  it  has  a  rich  red  color  that  fits 
in  well  with  the  dark  green 
of  the  sombre  and  stately 
pines.  The  oaks  and  other 
hardwood  trees  are  leaf- 
less, for  it  is  the  last  of 
December  and  the  foliage 
has  long  since  fallen.  The 
holly  trees,  with  their  red 
berries,  alone  are  bright 
and  cheerful. 

Although  the  scene  is 
sombre  and  lifeless,  yet  the 
coloring  of  sky  and  woods 
and  road  is  extremely  rich 
and  the  mighty  stretches 
of  unbroken  pine  forests  are  always  awe-inspiring.  But  in 
spite  of  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  our  surroundings,  the 
ride  soon  becomes  tedious  and  tiresome  ;  for  the  old  black  bull 
moves  along  very  slowly.  We  haven't  yet  learned  to  follow 
the  lead  of  the  owner,  who  is  already  sound  asleep  on  the 
bottom  of  the  cart,  trusting  to  the  patient  animal  to  take  him 
home  in  safety. 

We  haven't  passed  a  house  for  some  time  now,  and  are  just 
commencing  to  despair  of  ever  reaching  the  end  of  our  journey, 
when  a  light  appears  faint  and  far  off  through  the  trees. 


28 


GEORGIA  CRACKERS. 


The  old  bull  seems  to  recognize  it  and  quickens  his  pace. 
Soon  we  turn  off  the  main  road  and  go  bumping  over  the 
roughest  of  roads  through  the  woods.  The  jolting  at  last 
awakens  our  host,  and  he  comforts  us  with  the  assurance, 
"  Most  thar  neow."  A  few  minutes  more  of  torture  and  then 
the  bull  stops  in  front  of  a  small  log  house  in  a  clearing,  and 
we  are  at  last  at  the  home  of  a  typical  Georgia  Cracker. 

The  house  has  no  windows  at  all,  but  the  logs  are  so  loosely 
and  unevenly  put  together  that  the  cracks  are  large  enough  to 
let  in  plenty  of  light,  and  also  rather  more  air  than  would  be 
pleasant  on  a  chilly  night. 

The  roof  is  made  of  rude  slabs  and  hewn  shingles,  nailed 
on  in  a  way  that  is  very  typical  of  its  builder  and  owner,  but 
which  could  hardly  be  called  water-tight. 

The  chimney  is  built  entirely  on  the  outside  of  the  house, 
the  lower  part  being  made  of  stones  picked  up  off  the  farm  and 
cemented  by  the  common  red  clay  on  which  the  house  rests, 
while  the  upper  portion  is  made  of  sticks  laid  crosswise  and 
cemented  on  the  inside  and  outside  with  the  same  clay, 
and  finally,  to  hold  the  clay  in  place,  boards  are  braced  against 
it  from  the  outside. 

These  clay  chimneys  are  seen  all  over  the  State  of  Georgia, 
and  often  excite  wonder  in  the  minds  of  travellers  at  the  way 
in  which  they  are  built  and  how  it  is  that  the  houses  to  which 
they  are  connected  do  not  burn  up. 

There  appeared  to  be  little  difference  between  the  shed  used 
as  a  shelter  for  the  bull,  and  the  house  used  for  the  man's 
abode,  except,  perhaps,  a  slight  difference  in  size,  and  in  the 
fact  that  the  upper  part  of  the  shed,  which  is  used  to  stow 
away  a  winter's  supply  of  corn-stalks,  is  all  open  on  the  ends. 

The  house  was  in  a  picturesque  location  at  the  base  of  a 
wooded  slope  on  the  bank  of  a  small  stream.  Near  by  was 
a  small  cotton  patch,  and  next  to  that  a  corn-field  of  about  two 
or  three  acres  in  extent.  This  was  all  the  cultivated  land 
visible. 

While  we  are  looking  at  the  outside  of  the  house  and  its 


GKORGIA  CRACKKRS. 


29 


surroundings,  we  are  in  turn  being  gazed  at  by  a  group  of 
brown-faced,  tow-headed  children,  who  seem  to  find  us  as 
strange  and  curious  as  we  find  them  and  their  home. 

There  are  seven  of  them,  three  boys  and  four  girls,  the 
oldest  boy  being  about  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  of  age  and 
quite  tall,  and  the  oldest  girl  being  about  fifteen.  All  seemed 
healthy,  strong  children,  their  faces  tanned  by  contact  with  the 


The  Home  of  a  Georgia  Cracker. 


weather ;  and  although  they  could  hardly  be  called  intelligent- 
looking,  yet  they  were  not  without  good  looks,  especially  the 
younger  ones. 

The  boys  were  all  clothed  in  rough  cotton  jeans,  homespun 
and  homemade,  and  were  barefooted,  excepting  the  oldest,  who 
had  so  far  approached  the  dignity  of  manhood  as  to  be  the 
possessor  of  a  heavy  pair  of  topboots.  The  girls  were  also 
clothed  in  homemade  cotton  cloth,  and  were  without  ribbons 
or  decorations  of  any  kind,  and  all  were  barefooted,  as  was  also 


30 


GEORGIA  CRACKERS. 


the  mother,  who  came  forward  to  welcome  us  with  the  usual 
free  hospitality. 

We  entered  the  house  and  found  a  bright  fire  burning  in 
the  fireplace,  which  served  the  double  purpose  of  heat  and 
light.  No  lamps  are  used  by  these  people,  not  even  candles, 
and  the  only  light  obtainable  is  that  of  the  fat  pine  fire. 

There  was  very  little  attempt  at  order  or  decoration  in  the 
house.  A  few  cheap  chromos,  most  of  them  advertisements, 
decked  the  walls,  and  a  piece  of  looking-glass  about  a  foot 
square  was  fastened  up  over  a  table  which  holds  the  common 
basin  and  pail  of  water. 

In  one  corner  stands  the  spinning-wheel  and  loom,  with 
which  the  mother  makes  all  the  clothes.  Near  it  is  a  little 
cupboard,  loosely  built  of  rough  boards  and  containing  si  few 
dishes,  many  of  which  were  the  worse  for  wear,  and  also  a 
few  cooking  utensils,  chief  among  which  was  a  large  iron  pot. 

On  the  top  of  the  cupboard  was  a  small  wooden  clock  that 
had  long  since  ceased  to  tell  of  flying  moments,  whether  from 
lack  of  winding  or  not  is  a  question  not  answerable. 

Two  chairs  drawn  up  before  the  fireplace,  and  three  beds 
completed  the  furniture  of  this  one-roomed  mansion.  These 
three  beds  were  arranged  side  by  side  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
room,  one  for  the  girls,  one  for. the  boys,  and  the  last  for 
the  parents. 

As  there  were  only  three  in  the  house,  and  all  seemed  to  be 
pretty  well  supplied  with  occupants,  we  wondered  where  we 
were  to  sleep  ;  but  when  the  time  came  for  retiring,  which 
happened  about  half-past  eight,  or  very  shortly  after  we 
arrived,  the  three  boys,  without  waiting  to  be  told  and  without 
murmur,  coiled  themselves  up  on  a  pile  of  cotton  in  one  corner, 
leaving  us  their  bed. 

This  primitive  mode  of  life  might  have  many  embarrassments 
to  a  stranger,  but  there  is  no  disrobing  at  night  among  these 
people,  farther  than  the  taking  off  of  boots  and  hats,  so  there 
is  nothing  to  do  but  to  throw  yourself  on  the  bed  and  go  to 
sleep  if  you  can. 


GEORGIA  CRACKERS. 


31 


In  the  morning  we  arise  early,  wash  at  the  common  basin 
and  use  the  common  towel,  and  then  are  given  a  spoon 
each  and  invited  to  dip  into  the  pot  of  steaming  corn-meal.  As 
an  extra  treat  coffee  w^as  served,  but  without  sugar  or  milk. 
Such  is  breakfast,  and  such  would  have  been  dinner  and 
supper,  with  perhaps  a  piece  of  pork  with  the  meal  ;  but  we 
did  not  wait  for  any  more,  and  after  thanking  our  host 
we  start  out  for  the  next  place,  to  try  and  hire  a  mule  to  drive 
us  to  the  town  again. 

To  those  whose  ideal  of  life  is  one  close  to  nature  there 
might  be  many  points  of  attraction  in  the  lives  of  these  people. 
They  retire  early  and  rise  with  the  lark  ;  they  do  no  more 
work  than  is  absolutely  necessary  for  an  existence,  rarely 
looking  ahead ;  living  in  one  room  together ;  eating  their 
standard  dish  of  yellow  meal  out  of  a  common  pot,  and  drinking 
their  home-made  corn-whiskey  out  of  a  common  bottle  ;  caring 
little  or  nothing  for  education  or  religion  in  any  form  ;  hospi- 
table and  kind  to  all  but  revenue  agents,  and  are  fairly  moral 
and  honest. 

But  to  those  who  care  for  any  of  the  comforts  or  advantages 
of  civilization,  one  visit  to  the  homes  of  the  Georgia  Crackers 
will  be  enough,  and  they  will  never  more  long  for  an  earthly 
Utopia  where  wants  are  few  and  all  things  are  held  in  common. 

W.  F.  Patterson. 


Peanuts. 


Many  people  would  mistake  a  field  of  growing  peanuts  for 
a  field  of  clover.  During  the  Civil  War  the  boys  in  blue  often 
ran  with  eagerness  into  clover  fields  in  search  of  peanuts,  and 
could  not  be  convinced  of  their  mistake  until  they  had  pulled 
up  a  considerable  number  of  the  roots  and  had  been  roundly 
laughed  at  by  their  more  knowing  comrades. 

The  peanut,  sometimes  called  ground  pea  or  ground  nut,  is 
known  in  the  Southern  States  as  the  pindar  and  goober.  It 
is  generally  believed  to  be  a  native  of  Africa,  where  it  is  the 
principal  food  of  some  of  the  Congo  tribes  ;  but  four  or  five 
species  of  the  nut  are  found  growing  wild  in  Brazil. 

In  this  country  it  is  raised  principally  in  the  States  of 
Virginia,  North  Carolina  and  Tennessee,  and  has  been  more 
recently  cultivated  in  California. 

The  culture  of  the  peanut  is  not  difficult.  Land  suited  to 
the  raising  of  corn  or  melons  is  generally  selected,  and  care 

is  taken  that  there  be  nothing  in 
the  ground  that  would  stain  the 
shells. 

Planting-time  begins  when  the 
danger  to  plants  from  frost  has 
passed.  The  ground  is  plowed 
five  or  six  inches  deep,  and  then 
harrowed.  The  nuts  are  taken 
from  the  pod  without  breaking 
their  skins,  are  planted  two  or 
three  together  in  rows  about  three 
feet  apart  and  twenty  inches  from 
hill  to  hill,  and  are  covered  with  two  inches  of  earth.  Five 
pecks  of  shelled  seed  are  needed  for  an  acre.  The  work  of 
planting  was  formerly  done  by  hand,  but  it  is  now  done  by  a 
machine,  with  which  one  man  can  plant  six  to  eight  acres  a  day. 


PKANUTS. 


33 


When  in  a  short  time  the  vine  is  eight  or  ten  inches  long 
and  begins  to  blossom,  it  is  covered  with  an  inch  of  soil,  care 
being  taken  to  leave  the  tip  end  uncovered.  The  vines 
blossom  profusely  with  small  yellow  flowers,  and  as  the  flower 
fades  away  a  sharp-pointed  stem  grows  out  from  its  base,  turns 
downward  and  buries  itself  in  the  ground  ;  on  the  end  of  the 
stem  a  thick-shelled  pod  forms,  and  enlarges  rapidly. 

All  the  care  that  is  necessary  after  the  stem  returns  to  the 
ground  is  to  keep  the  land  free  from  weeds.  The  cultivation 
consists  in  running  a  plow  between  the  rows.    After  the  plants 


stacks  of  Peanuts. 


have  fallen  over,  they  cover  the  earth  so  thickly  as  to  smother 
all  other  growth. 

In  October,  when  the  nuts  are  ripe,  the  farmer  loosens  the 
earth  by  running  a  plow  under  each  row  to  cut  off  the  main 
roots  and  throw  out  the  pods.  Then  he  pulls  up  the  vines,  to 
which  the  nuts  adhere,  and  turns  them  over  to  dry.  He 
performs  this  work  only  in  pleasant  weather,  and  when  the 
ground  is  dry. 

After  the  vines  have  lain  in  the  sun  for  a  day,  which  is 
generally  a  sufficient  time  for  drying  them,  the  grower  stacks 
them  around  a  stake  about  seven  or  eight  feet  high.  The 


34 


PEANUTS. 


vines  remain  in  stack  from  three  to  five  weeks,  after  which  the 
nuts  are  picked  off,  placed  in  sacks  and  shipped  to  market.  A 
vine  under  favorable  conditions  bears  more  than  a  hundred 
nuts,  and  the  yield  per  acre  averages  forty  bushels. 

Most  of  the  Virginia  and  North  Carolina  crop,  which  is 
about  two-thirds  of  the  whole  crop  of  the  country,  is  marketed 


Picking  fronn  the  Vines. 


in  Norfolk  and  Petersburg,  Virginia.  In  each  of  these  cities 
are  factories  where  the  nuts  are  bought  as  they  are  delivered 
by  the  farmer.  The  nuts  as  they  appear  at  this  stage,  with 
earth  and  their  stems  still  clinging  to  them,  are  hardly  to  be 
recognized  as  the  bright  nuts  we  afterwards  see  on  the  corner 
stand. 

To  polish  them,  and  to  remove  the  earth  and  stems,  the 
nuts  are  scoured  in  large  iron  cylinders,  from  which  they  pass 
through  blast  fans,  in  which  a  strong  -  current  of  air  separates 
the  fully  developed  nuts  having  sound  kernels  from  those 
imperfectl}^  filled,  and  from  empty  pods. 

The  sound  nuts  fall  through  the  fan  upon  picking  tables, 


PfiANUTS. 


35 


where  those  which  are  discolored  are  taken  out,  and  the  bright 
ones  are  passed  on  into  sacks  which  will  each  hold  about  one 
hundred  pounds  of  nuts.  Bach  sack  is  marked  with  the  brand 
which  indicates  the  grade  of  its  contents. 

The  dark  and  the  partially  filled  nuts  are  shelled,  and  the 
kernels  are  used  by  confectioners  in  making  peanut  candy. 
The  work  of  picking  over  and  separating  the  nuts  is  performed 
by  little  girls,  about  twenty  of  whom  are  employed  at  every 
table. 

Three  varieties  of  peanuts  are  grown  in  this  country,  the 
white,  the  red,  and  the  vSpanish.  The  white,  which  is  the  most 
important  variety,  has  two  kernels  with  pink  skins  ;  its  vine 
spreads  along  the  ground,  unlike  that  of  the  red  variety,  which 
grows  more  upright  and  in  a  bunch. 

The  pod  of  the  red  nut  holds  three  and  sometimes  four 
kernels,  and  has  a  deep  red  skin.  The  Spanish  is  a  much 
smaller  nut,  with  a  lighter  skin  and  milder  flavor  than  either 
of  the  others.  The  entire 
crop  is  shelled,  and  used 
especially  in  that  rich  con- 
fection known  as  nougat. 

The  history  of  the  com- 
petition between  the  home 
product  and  the  imported 
peanut  is  interesting  and 
gives  one  some  idea  of  the 
importance  of  the  peanut 
trade.  In  1872,  and  for 
several  years  previous,  there  were  annually  imported  into  New 
York  a  half  million  bushels  of  peanuts,  the  greater  part  of 
which  came  from  Africa,  and  the  rest  from  Spain. 

The  American  farmers  gradually  awakened  to  a  perception 
of  the  profits  to  be  made  by  raising  the  nuts.  Melon  patches 
were  turned  into  peanut  fields,  and  in  1878  the  seed  of  the 
Spanish  nut  was  planted  in  Virginia.  The  product  was  found 
to  equal  that  of  the  foreign  nut,  and  as  it  cost  two  or  three 


36 


1>EANUYS. 


cents  a  pound  less  to  market  the  crop,  it  was  not  long  before 
the  imported  nut  was  driven  from  the  market.  At  present 
Virginia,  North  Carolina  and  Tennessee  count  goober-raising 
as  one  of  their  chief  industries. 

The  peanut  is  a  more  useful  product  than  people  in  general 
think  it  to  be.  We  all  know  how  eagerly  it  is  sought  after  in 
the  roasted  state  to  help  boys  enjoy  a  baseball  match  or  a 
circus  ;  but  its  use  in  the  roasted  form  by  no  means  measures 
the  extent  of  its  value,  or  the  variety  of  the  uses  to  which  it 
is  put. 

The  nuts  contain  from  forty-two  to  fifty  per  cent,  of  a  nearly 
colorless,  bland,  fixed  oil,  which  resembles  olive-oil  and  is 
used  for  similar  purposes.  This  oil  is  principally  employed  in 
the  manufacture  of  the  finer  grades  of  soap. 

In  1883  Virginia  began  to  manufacture  peanut  flour,  which 
makes  a  peculiarly  palatable  biscuit,  and  North  Carolina  has 
long  made  pavStry  of  pounded  peanuts.  It  is  also  eaten  for 
dessert,  and  it  is  roasted  as  a  substitute  for  coffee. 

The  peanut  is  very  nutritive.  The  negroes  use  it  in  very 
many  places  in  making  porridge  custard,  and  prepare  from  it  a 
beverage.  The  vine  forms  a  fodder  as  good  as  clover  hay,  and 
hogs  fatten  on  what  they  find  on  the  fields  after  the  crop  has 
been  gathered. 

George  B.  Spear. 


Chesapeake  Oysters. 


The  value  of  Chesapeake  Bay  for  other  purposes  than  those  * 
of  navigation  is  in  its  oyster  and  fishery  trade.  Not  counting 
rowboats,  there  are  fully  a  thousand  craft  of  various  sizes 
engaged  in  the  collection  and  transportation  of  oysters  in  and 
from  Chesapeake  Bay,  and  a  large  amount  of  money  is 
invested  in  the  industry. 

The  oyster-beds  are  theoretically  under  the  control  of  the 
State  of  Maryland,  and  its  legislature  has  passed  laws  intended 
to  regulate  the  trade.  From  time  immemorial  there  has  been  a 
vast  difference  between  theory  and  practice,  and  Chesapeake 
Bay  furnishes  no  exception  to  the  rule.  The  laws  are  openly 
violated,  and  piracy  has  flourished  on  the  Chesapeake  as  it 
flourished  on  the  Spanish  Main  and  other  parts  of  the  high 
seas  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries. 

There  are  two  ways  of  taking  oysters  from  their  beds  :  by 
tonging  and  by  dredging. 

In  the  first  method  the  oystermen  use  tongs  with  long 
handles  ;  a  pair  of  tongs,  with  its  jaws  open,  is  lowered  to  the 
bottom,  and  tiien  the  jaws  are  slowly  brought  together  to 
secure  whatever  oysters  come  within  their  grasp.  In  the  other 
process  a  dredge,  or  large  rake  with  curved  teeth,  is  drawn 
over  the  oyster-bed.  When  the  dredge  is  filled  with  oysters 
it  is  brought  to  the  vessel's  side  by  means  of  a  windlass,  and 
the  contents  are  placed  on  her  deck. 

There  are  certain  grounds  where  dredgers  may  work 
without  interference,  and  certain  other  grounds,  where  the 
water  is  shallow,  which  are  reserved  for  the  tongers,  and  leased 
by  the  state  to  companies  and  individuals. 

The  tonging  process  is  slow,  but  it  is  not  destructive  ; 
dredging  is  far  more  rapid  than  tonging,  but  it  is  terribly 
injurious  to  the  oyster-beds  where  the  water  is  shallow,  as  a 
dozen  oysters  are  destroyed  for  every  one  that  is  secured. 


3§ 


CHESAPEAKE^  OYSICERS. 


The  law  prohibiting  dredging  in  the  shallow  waters  was 
enacted  in  order  to  preserve  the  oyster-beds,  and  raise  a 
revenue  for  the  state,  which  claims  jurisdiction  over  the  bay. 
The  complete  ruin  of  the  oyster  industry  there  is  threatened 
unless  dredging  is  prohibited,  and  the  friends  of  the  law  say 


Where  Dredges  are  Made. 


that  in  a  few  years  there  will  be  no  oysters  left  for  either 
dredgers  or  tongers  to  gather. 

To  protect  the  beds  from  pirate  dredgers  the  State  of 
Maryland  has  an  oyster  police  with  its  steamers  and  sloops. 
Down  to  a  few  years  ago  the  pirates  were  held  fairly  in  check 
by  the  navy,  and  their  depredations  were  not  very  serious  ; 
occasionally  they  came  down  at  night  and  sailed  across  the 
forbidden  grounds  during  the  darkness  until  their  dredges 


CHESAPEAKE  OYSTERS. 


39 


were  filled,  and  they  were  off  and  out  of  sight  before  daylight, 
unless  detained  by  adverse  wind  or  no  wind  at  all. 

There  have  been  many  conflicts  between  the  dredgers  and 
the  Maryland  navy  ;  these  conflicts  were  bloodless  for  the  most 
part,  as  the  police  were  instructed  to  fire  only  at  the  sails  and 
rigging  of  the  pirate  craft,  and  must  not  shed  blood  except  in 
self-defence. 

But  sometimes  the  fighting  became  severe  owing  to  the 
vigorous  resistance  of  the  dredgers,  and  the  bullets  did  more 
than  make  rents  in  sail-cloth.  Policemen  and  pirates  were 
wounded,  and  in  some  instances  killed,  during  these  encounters, 
and  the  pirates  on  more  than  one  occasion  were  completely 
victorious. 

The  pirates  argued  that  they  had  a  right  to  take  oysters 
anywhere  and  in  their  own  way,  and  they  prepared  to  defy  the 
law  openly.  When  the  vessels  of  the  navy  appeared  some  of 
the  dredgers  surrounded  and  fought  them,  while  the  rest  went 
on  with  their  work  without  interruption. 

Occasionally  the  pirates  boarded  the  vessels  belonging  to 
the  lessees  of  the  oyster-beds  and  forcibly  took  away  whatever 
bivalves  they  had  on  hand ;  if  a  despoiled  tonger  offered  any 
protest  he  wa-s  knocked  down  and  silenced,  and  in  case  he 
made  any  resistance  to  being  plundered  he  was  flung  into  the 
water  and  had  to  take  his  chance  of  being  drowned. 

After  a  few  experiences  of  this  sort  the  tongers  lost  patience 
and  began  to  strike  back.  The  lessees  of  the  grounds  armed 
some  of  their  men  with  rifles  and  other  weapons,  and  fights 
between  tongers  and  dredgers  were  of  daily  occurrence. 
Sometimes  one  party  was  victorious  and  sometimes  the  other  ; 
but  the  dredgers  were  the  more  numerous  and  powerful  and 
the  tongers  suffered  accordingly. 

The  dredgers  proceeded  to  fit  up  their  vessels  for  war  ;  they 
provided  themselves  with  Winchester  rifles,  w^hich  were  placed 
in  racks  as  on  board  a  regular  naval  vessel,  the  crews  were 
armed  with  revolvers,  and  some  of  the  larger  schooners  had 
swivel  cannon  mounted  on  their  decks. 


40 


CHESAPEAKE  OYSTERS. 


One  of  them  actually  came  out  one  day  with  a  black  flag 
displayed  at  her  topmast  and  a  plank  rigged  at  the  side  as  an 
intimation  that  any  prisoners  might  expect  to  walk  the  plank 
in  the  style  of  the  old-fashioned  freebooters  of  the  sea. 

For  some  time  the  dredgers  actually  drove  off  the  tongers 


Oyster  Pirates, 

from  the  reserved  grounds  by  firing  upon  them  whenever  they 
appeared,  and  when  a  police-boat  went  out  to  interfere,  she 
was  fired  upon,  too,  and  her  assailants  were  so  numerous  that 
she  was  compelled  to  retire. 

The  strife  has  broken  up  families.  A  tonger  went  out  one 
day  and  was  fired  upon  from  his  son's  boat,  his  son  having 


41 


gone  into  the  dredging  business  and  turned  pirate.  The  fish- 
ermen in  the  same  neighborhood  were  prevented  from  setting 
their  nets,  and  a  party  of  gentlemen  who  have  a  duck-shooting 
club  on  the  shore  were  also  fired  upon  by  these  nineteenth 
century  buccaneers. 

The  tongers  of  Kent  Island  bought  an  old  cannon  and 
placed  it  in  a  position  to  command  their  grounds.  When  the 
dredgers  appeared  the  battle  began  ;  the  tongers  were  getting 
the  best  of  it  when  their  cannon  burst,  happily  without  injuring 
anybody.  Then  the  dredgers  went  to  work  and  filled  their 
boats.  Imagine  the  feelings  of  the  tongers  as  they  helplessly 
looked  on  and  saw  their  oysters  dredged  up  and  carried  away  ! 

Many  of  the  dredgers  are  from  the  eastern  shore  of 
Maryland,  but  the  larger  vessels  are  from  Baltimore  and 
other  Maryland  ports,  and  also  from  New  York.  There  is 
much  difficulty  in  obtaining  crews  for  these  craft  which  openly 
defy  the  law.  It  appears  that  the  owners  and  captains  are  as 
lawless  in  the  treatment  of  their  men  as  they  are  in  obtaining 
their  cargoes. 

These  men  are  compelled  to  work  from  four  in  the  morning 
till  nine  or  ten  at  night ;  are  fed  upon  bread  and  a  nauseous 
mixture  called  coffee.  They  have  neither  beds  nor  shelter  at 
night,  and  are  exposed  to  rain  and  snow  and  cold  all  through 
the  winter  months. 

They  are  frequently  maltreated,  and  often  cheated  out  of 
their  wages.  In  short,  the  lot  of  the  pirate  before  the  mast  has 
always  been  a  hard  one,  whatever  may  be  that  of  the  captain 
or  the  owner  of  the  vessel. 

Thomas  W.  Knox. 


Maryland  Fishing-- Farms. 


Nothing  could  be  more  strongly  contrasted  than  the  lives 
and  methods  of  the  New  England  farmer  and  the  farmer  of 
that  long,  level  peninsula  known  as  the  Eastern  Shore 
of  Maryland,  lying  between  the  Chesapeake  Bay  and  the 
Atlantic  Ocean.  In  driving  along  the  smooth  clay  and  oyster- 
shell  roads  of  the  Eastern  Shore,  the  first  thing  that  would 
make  the  Northern  farmer  sigh  with  envy  is  the  absence  of 
stones,  big  or  little.  About  the  only  homes  to  be  seen  close 
beside  the  main  roads  are  the  small  whitewashed  cabins  with 
chimneys  built  outside,  belonging  to  those  negroes  whose 
thrift  has  secured  the  coveted  five  acres  and  a  mule. 

The  real  farmhouses  are  often  half  a  mile  back  from  the 
road.  A  long,  private  driveway,  called  the  lane,  leads  to 
them,  through  an  avenue  of  trees.  The  front  door  of  the  large, 
rambling  house  opens  on  the  lawn,  alwaj^s  generous  in  its 
size,  while  the  rear  door  of  the  hall  is  equally  sure  to  open  on 
a  broad  piazza  looking  out  on  the  bay.  The  true  Marylander 
is  proud  of  his  water-front,  and  the  first  hospitable  invitation  is 
to  come  and  see  the  view  or  to  walk  out  to  the  bank. 

A  few  of  the  farms  on  the  main  arms  of  the  bay  can  boast 
a  tiny  beach,  where  the  water  laps  the  yellow  sand  in  true 
seashore  style,  but  for  the  most  part  grass  grows  to  the  water's 
edge.  Every  farmer  has  his  sailboat,  and  social  life  receives  a 
constant  impetus  from  it.  Calls  are  made,  evening  parties 
come  and  go,  and  business  engagements  are  comfortably 
attended  to  by  boat.  Coal  for  the  furnaces,  ice  for  the 
ice-houses,  which  must  be  bought  after  a  mild  winter,  and 
freight  of  various  sorts  are  landed  at  the  small  docks. 

But  the  financial  help  which  the  bay  gives  the  owners  of 
water-farms  is  greater  than  all.  A  goodly  portion  of  the  living 
comes  from  its  waters,  and  the  sales  of  fish  are  great  aids  to 
make  farming  pay.    Farms  which  have  a  good  water-front  are 


MARYI^AND  FISHING-FARMS. 


43 


worth  nearly  twice  as  much  per  acre  as  inland  farms,  but 
are  rarely  for  sale,  as  they  are  kept  in  the  same  family  for 
generations. 

Six  hundred  dollars  from  the  season's  sale  of  fish  is  a  fair 
return  for  a  farm  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  acres  with  half  a 
mile  of  shore  lines,  while  many  years  show  even  greater  gains. 


Driveway  to  the  Farmhouse. 


The  cost  of  nets,  boats  and  other  needs  averages  about  one 
hundred  to  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  year.  The 
farmer  usually  conducts  his  fishing  on  shares  with  the  regular 
fishermen,  and  if,  at  the  end  of  the  fishing  season  of  sixty 
days,  he  has  two  or  three  hundred  dollars  for  his  half  of  the 
profits  he  is  satisfied. 

The  outlook  along  the  shore  of  these  fishing-farms  is 


44 


MARYI^AND  FISHING- FARMS. 


curious.  By  each  farm  there  are  two  or  three  long  lines  of 
hedging,  running  out  from  the  shore.  This  hedging,  which 
begins  in  moderately  shallow  water  and  not  directly  at  the 
shore,  is  made  of  heavy  poles  or  piles  driven  into  the  water, 
each  one  from  twelve  to  twenty  feet  in  length,  according  to  the 
water's  depth.  It  is  capped  at  intervals  with  long  poles,  to 
which  heavy  twine  nets  are  fastened.  These  nets  are  wide 
enough  to  be  half  a  foot  above  the  water  at  high  tide. 

The  piles  and  nets  form  a  wall  against  the  sea,  and  as 
the  fish  swim  up  or  down  stream  they  find  this  obstruction  to 
their  course.  Fish  never  turn  backward,  and,  true  to  their 
instinct,  they  swim  along  the  line  of  hedging,  trying  to  find  an 
outlet.  At  the  deep-water  end  of  the  hedging  is  a  netting, 
strong  and  heavily  tarred,  which  is  funnel-shaped,  the  small 
end  inviting  the  fish  to  enter.  The  confiding  fish  does  so, 
and  finds  himself  in  a  square  room  with  walls  of  netting.  The 
fishermen  come  in  their  boats  at  ebb-tide,  and  carefully  lifting 
the  net,  empty  all  the  unlucky  fishes  into  the  boat. 

This  room  is  the  fisher's  weir,  or  pound,  and  is  from 
fourteen  to  twenty  feet  square  and  from  twelve  to  eighteen  feet 
deep,  varying  with  the  depth  of  the  water.  The  weir  is 
provided  with  a  rope,  by  which  the  men  draw  the  net  up  till 
the  fish  are  all  in  a  small  space,  and  then  scoop  them  out  with 
a  hand-net.  Fish  of  all  sorts,  herring,  catfish,  bass  or  rock, 
white  and  yellow  perch,  eels  and  the  like  are  caught  in  this 
way.  Herrings,  which  come  in  large  schools,  are  caught  in 
great  numbers.  Sometimes  five  hundred  or  more  are  scooped 
in  ;  but  one  hundred  is  thought  a  big  haul  of  shad. 

Shad  are  the  most  valuable  and  salable,  and  another 
method  is  devised  for  catching  them.  Large  nets,  fourteen  feet 
long  and  thirty-six  feet  deep,  are  made  of  fine  gilling-twine. 
These  nets  are  hung  at  each  end  by  wooden  rings  to  poles, 
which  are  staked  out  at  quite  a  distance  from  the  shore. 
They  are  weighted  by  iron  rings  and  hang  down  into  the 
water  like  a  sheet  upon  a  clothes-line.  The  shad  go  up 
the  river  with  the  flood-tide,  and  at  ebb-tide  they  are  found 


MARYLAND  FISHING-FARMS. 


45 


caught  by  the  gills  in  this  fine  net.  It  is  certainly  not 
flattering  to  finny  instincts  that  a  slender  net  should  hold  fast 
such  heavy,  powerful  fish.  The  fish  are  gathered  in  once  or 
twice  a  day,  and  then  are  packed  in  barrels  and  boxes  to  ship 
to  city  markets. 

Strange  enough,  there  are  plenty  of  men  who  do  not 
consider  the  fish  the  property  of  the  fishing-farmers,  even  when 
in  the  weirs,  and  constant  watching  alone  keeps  them  from 
being  plundered.  The  farmers  have  built  little  houses  along 
the  shore,  where  their  men  can  sleep  nights  and  keep  one  eye 
upon  their  nets.  The  only  thing  that  holds  these  thieves 
within  bounds  is  a  gun  loaded  with  buckshot. 

After  the  fishing  season  closes  the  farmer  turns  his  attention 
to  crabbing,  though  not  so  extensively.  The  soft-shelled  crab 
is  quite  scarce,  but  he  is  the  same  crustacean  as  the  hard- 
shelled,  the  only  difference  being  that  his  shell  is  soft  during 
the  time  he  is  shedding  the  old  one  and  growing  a  new  one. 
The  fisherman  rows  along  the  shallow  water  and  scoops  them 
up  with  a  hand-net.  A  trap  is  made  for  the  hard-shelled  crab. 
Poles  are  driven  into  the  water  and  connected  by  strong 
cords.  To  these  cords  other  cords,  baited  with  meat,  are  tied 
and  let  down  into  the  water.  The  crabs  come  to  feed  on  the 
meat,  and  are  easily  caught  in  hand-nets. 

Terrapin,  once  so  plentiful,  are  growing  fewer  and  fewer. 
Some  effort  has  been  made  to  propagate  them,  but  it  is  difficult 
and  is  not  generally  attempted.  Oyster-raising,  except  for 
private  use,  is  not  attempted  by  the  farmers.  To  supply  the 
family  table,  small  beds  are  planted  and  cared  for  and  gathered 
by  tonging. 

Agnes  Bailfy  Ormsbee. 


How  Milk  is  Marketed. 


When  the  milkman  rattles  at  the  alley  gate,  or  the  front 
doorbell  tinkles  to  his  early  pull  on  a  winter's  morning,  how 
many  know  where  the  fluid  comes  from  that  is  carefully  ladled 
from  the  can  into  the  answering  pitcher,  or  know  the  system  of 
production  and  transportation  by  which  it  reaches  its  destina- 
tion at  thousands  of  houses  so  regularly  and  promptly  every 
morning  in  the  year  ? 

There  are  places  in  other  countries  than  America  where  the 
milkmen  drive  their  cows  from  door  to  door,  to  serve  milk 
fresh  and  warm  wherever  needed  ;  but  such  a  method  is  far  too 
primitive  for  our  large  cities  and  go-ahead  people. 

It  would  take  a  good-sized  drove  of  cows  to  supply  the  milk 
that  is  consumed  in  one  of  the  large  city  hotels,  and  most  of 
the  residence  streets  of  our  towns  would  have  a  double  row 
of  cows  and  milkers  from  one  end  to  the  other  more  than 
half  the  day,  if  such  were  the  custom  here.  Other  means  have 
had  to  be  devised  to  supply  the  people  of  our  cities  with  milk. 

Winter,  when  the  fields  are  covered  with  snow  or  brown 
from  frost-nippings,  is  the  best  time  in  which  to  visit  a  farm 
where  cows  are  kept  for  the  purpose  of  supplying  milk  to 
cities.  Then  all  the  resources  of  the  dairy  farmer  are  brought 
to  bear  in  order  properly  to  care  for  his  herd,  and  secure  its 
best  yield  for  market. 

When  the  country  is  green,  when  clover  grows  in  inviting 
clusters,  when  timothy  stands  in  lustrous  tufts,  and  the  green 
grass  mats  its  tender  shoots  of  which  the  milking  herds  may 
eat  their  fill,  then  Nature  is  doing  by  far  the  greater  half  of  the 
farmer's  work.  Each  cow  then  feeds  herself,  attends  to  her 
own  sleeping  arrangements,  and  makes  her  own  bed. 

One  winter's  day  found  me  forty  miles  from  Philadelphia, 
driving  with  a  dairy  farmer  from  the  railroad  station  to  his 
home.    Nestled  against  a  hillside,  his  house,  with  massive 


HOW  MILK  IS  MARKETED. 


47 


chimneys  and  broad  porches,  had  an  old-fashioned  air  of  solid 
comfort. 

It  Vv'as  near  the  evening  milking-time  when  we  stepped  from 
under  the  sleigh-robes  to  the  swept  path  at  the  house-yard 
gate  ;  so  at  my  friend's  suggestion  we  went  directly  to  the 
barn  to  witness  the  operation.  The  girls,  a  rosy,  laughing 
party  of  them,  were  selecting  their  milking-buckets,  clean  and 


Milking  in  Summer. 


bright  as  new  pins,  from  the  milk-room  shelves,  or  their 
milking-stools  from  the  rack  outside. 

Equipped  with  these,  they  entered  the  wide  door  of  the 
main  barn  to  pass  in  the  rear  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  cows, 
chained  by  the  neck  to  their  feed-bins.  The  pleasant  odor  of 
kine  blended  with  the  sweet  perfume  of  hay  and  ground  corn 
upon  which  the  animals  were  feeding.  Fat,  sleek,  well-fed 
creatures  they  were,  clean  and  warmly  bedded  with  bright 
straw  ;  for  the  yield  of  a  dairy  is  largely  increased  by  liberal 
feeding  and  constant  care  of  the  cows. 

Kach  girl  had  her  allotment  of  cows,  and  for  the  time 


48 


HOW  mii^k:  is  MARKE'TKD. 


assumed  absolute  control  over  them.  Chubby  Gertie,  bucket 
and  stool  in  hand,  stepped  bravely  up  on  the  right  of  a 
great  red  beast,  ten  times  as  big  as  herself,  gave  her  an  admon- 
ishing poke  with  the  stool-legs,  and  said,  authoritatively, 
' '  Stand  over,  Reddy  !  ' '  which  Reddy  immediately  did  without 
protest. 

Down  the  girl  plumped  upon  her  stool,  gave  her  skirts  a 
quick  tuck  under  herself,  nestled  her  bucket  with  a  slant  in  the 
straw,  rested  her  head  against  the  cow's  soft  flank,  and  went 
earnestly  to  work  with  both  hands  at  the  round,  full  udder, 
causing  its  contents  to  dash  in  rhythmic  spurts  into  the 
sounding  bucket. 

As  the  milking-buckets  are  filled,  they  are  emptied  into 
others  much  larger,  having  broad,  lip-like  spouts  and  partl)^ 
covered  tops,  called  strainers.  These,  when  filled,  are  carried 
by  men  to  the  cooling-room,  where  the  warm,  frothy  milk  is 
carefully  poured  through  the  fine  wire  strainers  guarding  the 
spout,  into  cans  made  of  heavy  tin  and  bound  substantially 
with  either  iron  or  brass  bands. 

The  cans  are  about  two  and  a  half  feet  high,  wdth  wide 
mouths  into  which  a  handled  lid  fits  tightly.  They  are  of  two 
sizes,  holding,  respectively,  twenty  and  forty  quarts.  It  is  in 
these  cans  that  the  milk  is  shipped  to  its  destination. 

Cleanliness  and  proper  cooling  are  necessities  in  handling 
milk.  Everything  that  it  touches  must  be  scrupulously 
cleaned  and  scalded,  and  the  spring-house  or  the  cooling-room 
must  be  pure  and  well  ventilated  ;  if  not,  sour  or  distasteful 
milk  is  the  consequence  of  the  neglect. 

As  the  cans  are  filled,  they  are  placed  side  by  side  in  the 
running  water  of  the  cooling-trough,  which  is  of  about  the  same 
depth  as  the  milk  in  the  cans.  The  milk  is  frequently  stirred 
with  a  wooden  paddle  until  all  of  the  animal  heat  has  departed 
from  it,  and  here  it  remains  uncovered  during  the  night. 

In  some  places  more  remote  from  the  city  the  milk  is  sent 
to  the  railroad  as  soon  as  it  is  cooled,  together  with  the 
morning's  milking,  to  meet  the  late  evening  train  ;  but  our 


HOW  MILK  IS  MARKETED. 


49 


farmer  rises  while  it  is  yet  night  to  hurry  off  his  product  to  the 
early  milk-train. 

Four  o'clock  in  the  morning  !  The  milk-cans  have  been 
loaded  into  the  bed  of  the  sled,  and  the  horses  are  impatient  to 
be  off.  Not  a  ray  of  light  yet  appears  in  the  east,  and  overhead 
the  bright  stars  are  shining.  The  horses'  feet  creak  as  they 
tread  the  snow  and  the  sled-runners  sing  as  they  glide  over  it. 
We  are  not  alone.  As  we  near  the  station,  sleds  driven  by 
fur-capped,  muffled  drivers  join  us,  coming  from  all  directions, 
some* from  five  or  six  miles  away. 

At  the  railroad  station  the  sled  halts  by  the  edge  of  a 


The  Station,  Philadelphia. 


wooden  platform  at  the  steel  track's  side,  whose  floor  is  on 
a  level  with  the  car  doors.  Here  is  a  busy  scene.  The  station 
agent's  calls  of  "  Name  ?  "  How  many  cans  ?  "  "  How  many 
quarts  ?  ' '  rise  above  the  jingle  of  sleigh-bells  as  he  stands  with 
lantern  on  his  arm,  noting  the  names  and  amount  brought  by 
each  person. 

When  the  cans  have  been  unloaded  from  the  sleds  upon  the 
platform,  and  registered  by  the  agent,  they  become  in  a  sense 
passengers,  and  the  agent  proceeds  to  collect  tickets  for  them. 
Drawing  off  their  mittens,  which  they  hold  in  their  teeth,  the 
drivers  fumble  in  their  pockets  until  a  package  of  tickets  is 


50 


HOW  MII.K  IS  MARKKTKD. 


found.  From  thCvSe  each  one  selects  as  many  tickets  as  he  has 
twenty-quart  cans,  or  two  for  each  forty-quart,  and  hands  them 
to  the  agent. 

These  tickets  represent  the  passage-money  for  the  cans.  In 
this  respect  the  tin  reservoirs  are  treated  precisely  as  human 
passengers. 

There  is  a  shout :  ' '  Here  comes  the  train  !  ' '  As  it  glides 
to  the  platform,  the  driver  whose  morning  turn  it  is  to  load 
the  milk,  seizes  a  can  and  whirls  it  on  its  bottom  edge  to  the 
waiting  train  official  ;  he  in  turn  grasps  it,  and  keeps  it 
whirling  across  the  car  until  it  settles  with  a  thud  among  a 
group  of  every-morning  companions  from  more  distant  stations. 
When  all  the  cans  are  loaded  and  the  passengers  are  on  board, 
there  is  a  wild  wave  of  a  lantern,  a  shriek  of  the  locomotive's 
whistle,  and  on  goes  the  train  with  its  precious  burden  of  life 
and  life-giving  fluid. 

At  every  village,  cross-road  and  station  similar  scenes  are 
enacted,  until  one,  two  or  three  cars  are  filled  with  their  tin 
passengers.  Before  half  of  the  people  of  the  city  are  out  of 
their  warm  beds,  the  train  glides  into  the  station.  Outside 
of  it  are  double  rows  of  milk- wagons,  gaudily  painted,  and 
lettered  "Pure  Country  Milk,"  "Diamond  Spring  Dairy,"  or 
some  other  seductive  title  chosen  by  the  milkman  to  attract 
customers. 

A  railroad  official  examines  the  tags  on  the  cans,  and 
delivers  to  each  milkman  those  marked  with  his  name.  The 
milkman  hurries  off  with  them  to  his  wagon,  unblankets  his 
horse,  climbs  to  his  seat,  tucks  the  blanket  about  his  legs,  and 
away  he  goes  to  rattle  the  alley  gates  or  tinkle  the  front 
door-bells  along  the  route  he  serves. 

Chart.ks  McIi^vaink. 


The  Statue  of  Liberty 


The  entrance  to  New  York  harbor  is  adorned  with  the 
largest  statue  the  world  has  ever  seen.  But  the  idea  of  thus 
marking  the  mouth  of  a  seaport  is  not  new.  A  statue  which 
may  be  reasonably  compared  with  Liberty  Enlightening  the 
World  was  erected  more  than  two  thousand  years  ago. 

The  Colossus  of  Rhodes  was  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of 
the  world.  It  was  twelve  years  in  building  and  was  two-thirds 
as  tall  as  the  lyiberty  Statue.  About  224  B.  C.  it  was  thrown 
down  by  an  earthquake  after  it  had  excited  the  admiration  of 
travellers  for  only  about  sixty  years. 

Engineering  science  is  much  farther  advanced  now  than  it 
was  two  thousand  years  ago,  and  it  is  the  opinion  of  men 
competent  to  decide  the  point,  that  our  statue  will  be  able  to 
withstand  the  fiercest  gales  that  rage.  Certainly  extraordinary 
care  was  taken  to  make  the  foundation  upon  which  it  stands 
strong  enough  to  endure  forever. 

This  statue  is  the  gift  of  Frenchmen  to  America.  The 
money  to  pay  for  it  was  contributed  in  large  and  small  sums  by 
French  people  of  every  social  standing.  The  statue  itself  is 
one  hundred  and  fifty-one  feet  high,  but  the  pedestal  on  which 
it  stands  is  so  great  a  structure  that  the  statue  towers  more 
than  three  hundred  feet  from  the  ground.  It  is  visible  twent}'- 
five  miles  at  sea. 

During  the  progress  of  the  work  in  Paris,  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  interested  men  and  women  visited  the  shops 
where  the  statue  was  building.  The  French  are  a  very 
impressionable  people,  and  one  who  has  ever  seen  a  group  of 
them  under  political  excitement  can  easily  see  the  manner  in 
which  they  would  shout,  with  nervous  enthusiasm,  Vive  la 
Republique  Amei'icahie  /  ' ' 

A  description  of  the  process  of  building  the  statue,  for  it 
was  really  built  up  with  copper  plates,  is  extremely  interesting. 


The  Statue  of  Liberty. 


THK  STATUK  OF  LIBERTY. 


53 


First,  the  artist  Bartholdi  made  a  life-size  statue.  Next,  each 
part  was  taken  by  itself,  and  multiplied  in  size  according  to  a 
definite  rule. 

Then  a  framework  of  wood  was  built  as  a  sort  of  mold,  and 
the  plates,  nearly  an  inch  thick,  were  fitted  to  it.  Finally 
all  the  parts  were  joined  together..  But  before  the  statue  was 
shipped  to  this  country  it  was  all  taken  apart,  and  was 
transferred  to  New  York  in  more  than  three  hundred  pieces. 

Some  of  the  measurements  are  astonishing.  Ten  men  can 
stand  with  comfort  inside  the  torch  which  Liberty  holds  aloft 
with  a  right  arm  forty-two  feet  long.  Forty  men  can  stand 
within  the  head,  which  they  reach  by  a  spiral  staircase  within 
the  structure. 

The  statue  stands  in  New  York  Bay,  but  it  is  an  object  of 
pride  to  every  American,  both  as  a  compliment  paid  to  the 
greatest  republic  in  the  world  by  the  greatest  of  European 
republics,  and  as  a  conspicuous  emblem  of  our  proud  but  true 
boast  that  here  the  torch  of  liberty  has  burned  with  the 
brightest  and  steadiest  flame. 

Moreover,  the  statue  was  not  presented  to  New  York  City, 
or  to  the  state,  or  to  the  national  government,  but  to  the 
American  people,  and  while  there  are  good  reasons  why  New 
Yorkers  should  be  specially  interested,  it  is  difficult  to  see 
how  any  true  American  can  be  indifferent. 

The  statue  is  the  gift  from  one  people  to  another  ;  from 
Frenchmen,  who  love  liberty,  to  Americans  who  love  it  no 
less,  although  it  may  be  true  that  the  methods  by  which  the 
French  sought  to  win  liberty  are  not  ours,  and  that  they  do  not 
recommend  themselves  in  all  respects  to  men  who  love  law  as 
well  as  liberty. 

Some  men,  also,  will  be  disposed  to  admit  that  a  colossal 
statue  standing  on  an  island  in  a  harbor  is  not  the  highest  form 
of  art.  But  what  of  it  ?  Let  us  look  to  the  spirit  of  the  givers, 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  gift. 

Max  Owe:n. 


Brooklyn  Bridge  from  the  New  York  side. 


The  Brooklyn  Bridge 


In  every  bird's-eye  view  of  Greater  New  York  the 
Brooklyn  Bridge  must  always  be  a  prominent  object.  Its 
two  magnificent  towers  rising  from  the  water's  edge  on  both 
shores  loom  up  in  the  outlook  from  every  eminence  in  the 
neighborhood. 

Seen  from  the  base,  they  rise  toward  the  sky  with  a  solid 
and  indestructible  splendor,  and  from  the  river  they  lose 
nothing  of  their  superb  height,  while  the  bridge  itself,  hung 
from  shore  to  shore  with  unparalleled  boldness,  is  more  fully 
revealed  here  than  at  any  other  point. 

No  general  view,  however,  can  show  the  scope  of  the  entire 
work.  The  long  span  may  be  depicted,  for  it  is  high  above 
all  the  surrounding  objects,  but  one  must  be  on  the  bridge 
itself  to  see  what  a  wonder  of  engineering  it  is.  It  is  not 
merely  a  suspension  bridge  across  a  wide  and  deep  tidal  river, 
but  by  means  of  enormous  masonry  arches  it  is  continued  high 
over  the  housetops,  until  at  one  end  it  reaches  the  level  of  City 
Hall  Park,  in  the  centre  of  commercial  New  York,  and  at  the 
other  end  the  heart  of  Brooklyn. 

It  not  merely  bridged  the  East  River,  but  it  practically 
made  one  city  of  two  which  hitherto  were  connected  only  by 
tedious  ferries,  which  at  the  best  were  always  liable  to  the 
delays  of  fog  and  ice.  The  bridge  opened  an  ample  and  direct 
path  by  which  one  can  accomplish  in  five  minutes  what 
formerly  took  thirty  minutes,  and  therein  the  utility  of  the 
work  is  shown. 

It  is  not  simply  a  footway  for  pedestrians.  It  is  eighty-five 
feet  wide  and  is  divided  into  five  parallel  avenues,  two  for 
railway  tracks,  two  for  carriages  and  other  vehicles  drawn  by 
horses,  and  one  for  pedestrians.  The  latter  is  much  higher 
than  all  the  others,  and  gives  to  foot-passengers  an  uninter- 
rupted view  over  the  roofs  of  the  cars  which  run  on  both  sides 


56 


THE  BROOKLYN  BRIDGE. 


of  it,  a  view  so  comprehensive  and  impressive  that  the  footway 
is  a  favorite  resort  to  sightseers. 

The  entrance  to  the  bridge  is  a  rather  small  structure, 
opposite  the  City  Hall,  and  is  dwarfed  by  the  much  finer 
buildings  surrounding  it.  Passing  out  of  the  station  one 
walks  on  a  masonry  viaduct  which  becomes  higher  and  higher 
as  the  land  over  which  it  is  built  slopes  down  to  the  river. 
Now  the  observer  is  on  a  level  with  the  top-story  windows  of 
the  houses,  now  above  their  chimneys,  and  now  marching 
directly  over  the  tracks  and  trains  of  the  elevated  railway. 
With  each  step  taken  along  the  smooth  path,  the  men  and 
women  in  the  streets  below  grow  more  like  pigmies,  and  a 
desert  of  roofs,  with  wreaths  of  steam  and  smoke  issuing  from 
the  chimneys,  spreads  out  in  all  directions. 

By  and  by  the  end  of  the  viaduct  is  reached  and  we  enter 
upon  the  bridge  itself.  The  massive  cables  by  which  it  is 
suspended  sweep  up  in  front  of  us  and  pass  over  the  top  of  the 
New  York  tower,  from  which  they  sweep  down  again  with  an 
exquisite  curve  to  the  very  middle  of  the  bridge,  thence  up 
over  the  top  of  the  Brooklyn  tower  and  down  to  the  anchorage 
on  that  side  of  the  river. 

Now  we  are  high  above  the  ships  lying  at  their  wharves 
and  we  can  see  them  from  stem  to  stern.  In  a  few  seconds 
more  we  are  walking  under  the  archway  of  the  New  York 
tower,  and  the  splendor  of  the  work  touches  us  with  increasing 
awe.  The  bridge  hangs  across  the  river  without  other  support 
than  the  cables  for  a  distance  of  sixteen  hundred  feet ;  the  floor 
is  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  above  high  water,  and  the 
tower  rises  two  hundred  and  seventy-seven  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  shore,  or  as  high  as  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  at 
Washington. 

The  real  size  of  the  tower  cannot  be  seen,  however,  for 
from  the  sea-level  it  is  built  down  out  of  sight  under  the 
rushing  water  to  its  foundations  on  the  bed-rock  seventy-eight 
feet  below  the  surface,  and  thus  from  top  to  bottom  it  is 
actually  three  hundred  and  fifty-five  feet  high. 


the:  BROOKLYN  bridge:. 


57 


Advancing  to  the  middle  of  the  vSpan  we  look  down  again. 
Two  cities  with  two  million  people  are  below  us,  and  the  eye 
can  pick  out  every  notable  building.  Looking  straight  down, 
the  great  Sound  steamers  and  large  ships  can  be  seen  passing 
under  our  very  feet,  for  we  are  higher  than  their  topmasts, 
and  it  seems  as  if  we  had  acquired  the  power  of  wings  and 


Railway  and  Driveway,  South  side. 


were  poised  soniewhere  up  in  the  sky.  The  harbor  is  visible 
down  beyond  the  Statue  of  Liberty,  and  the  ocean  steamers  are 
pouring  endless  ribbons  of  smoke  toward  the  Narrows.  We 
can  see  the  fortifications,  the  low  shores  of  New  Jersey,  with 
the  purple  band  of  the  Orange  Mountains  in  the  distance,  and 
the  blue,  curving  hills  of  Staten  Island. 

Constant  trains  of  cars  are  passing  over  it,  and  the  carriage- 
ways on  both  sides  are  filled  with  a  stream  of  trucks,  wagons 


58 


'THK  BROOKI^YN  BRIDGE^. 


and  coaches.  At  night  hundreds  of  electric  lights  sparkle  along 
the  bridge,  and  to  the  mariner  coming  into  harbor  through  the 
Narrows,  they  appear  to  be  some  new  and  brilliant  constellation 
in  the  sky.  Passing  under  the  arches  of  the  Brooklyn  tower, 
over  which  the  vast  supporting  cables  are  again  carried,  we 
reach  the  Brooklyn  end  of  the  bridge,  a  little  over  a  mile  from 
the  point  at  which  we  started. 

The  work  on  the  bridge  was  begun  in  1870,  and  day  by  day 
passengers  by  the  ferry  saw  the  towers  growing  in  height,  until 
in  1876  both  of  them  were  complete,  though  there  was  as  yet 
no  connecting  link  between  them.  How  could  the  first  wire  be 
stretched  across  the  water  ? 

Traffic  in  the  river  was  stopped  for  an  hour,  until  a  scow 
could  carry  a  wire  rope  from  one  tower  to  the  other  and  back 
again,  so  as  to  form  an  endless  belt  running  from  anchorage 
to  anchorage.  A  board  seat  slung  by  its  four  corners  to  this 
belt  and  passing  over  it,  was  used  in  the  preliminary  stages  by 
the  workmen  for  uniting  other  wires  to  the  original  one. 
By  slow  degrees  wire  was  spliced  to  wire  and  multiplied  until, 
after  seven  years  of  work,  the  splendid  suspension  bridge  was 
completed. 

Each  of  the  four  enormous  cables  which  sustain  the  bridge 
contains  five  thousand  wires  one-eighth  of  an  inch  in  thickness. 
They  all  rest  upon  the  tops  of  the  towers,  without  dragging 
upon  them,  and  thence  they  are  carried  to  anchorages  nine 
hundred  and  thirty  feet  inshore  from  the  towers,  where  they 
are  secured  under  a  weight  of  about  sixty  thousand  tons  of 
masonry. 

Everything  about  the  Brooklyn  bridge  is  substantial,  as 
indeed  it  ought  to  be,  for  the  work  cost  nearly  sixteen  million 
dollars.  The  superstructure  is  calculated  to  last  for  a  century 
at  least,  and  the  imagination  cannot  compass  the  distance  of 
the  future  when  the  towers  shall  have  fallen. 


W11.1.IAM  H.  RiDEING. 


The  Grant  Monument 


The  formal  national  crowning  of  the  career  of  General 
Grant  occurred  in  1897,  when  his  grand  tomb  at  Riverside 
Park,  New  York,  was  dedicated.  The  ceremony  was  as 
impressive  as  befitted  the  occasion,  and  is  not  unlikely  to  be 
remembered  as  the  culminating  incident  of  the  great  Civil  War 
period  of  our  national  history. 

Napoleon  Bonaparte's  mortal  remains,  lying  in  the  magnifi- 
cent marble  crypt  beneath  the  golden  dome  of  the  Hotel  des 
Invalides  in  Paris,  have  hitherto  been  more  grandly  entombed 
than  those  of  any  man  of  modern  times.  This  distinction  is 
henceforth  to  be  shared  by  the  relics  of  our  patriot  warrior 
whose  humanity  was  signalized  by  his  famous  words,  "  I^et  us 
have  Peace." 

These  benign  words  of  the  man  who,  though  bred  to  arms 
and  preeminent  in  war,  never  forgot  the  gentle  instincts  of  a 
Christian,  have  perhaps  more  endeared  General  Grant  to  the 
American  people  than  all  his  victories.  It  is  eminently 
appropriate,  therefore,  that  the  inscription,  "Let  us  have 
Peace,"  should  be  most  conspicuous  on  the  hero's  mausoleum 
as  proclaiming  for  all  time  to  our  people,  and  especially  to  our 
military  leaders,  that  the  one  justification  for  war  arises  when 
no  other  means  can  secure  an  honorable  peace. 

The  history  of  the  Grant  Monument  is  well  known.  As 
soon  as  it  was  determined  that  the  General's  tomb  should  be  in 
New  York,  the  Monument  Association  opened  its  books  for 
popular  contributions.  Owing  to  various  difficulties,  the 
undertaking  made  little  progress  until  1892,  when  Gen.  Horace 
Porter  assumed  charge  of  the  work.  His  prestige  as  a  soldier, 
his  long  service  on  General  Grant's  staff  during  the  Civil 
War,  and  his  close  friendship  with  the  great  leader  made  him 
thoroughly  acceptable  to  the  nation  as  the  directing  mind  of 
the   enterprise.     Money  immediately  began   to  accumulate. 


6o 


THE  GRANT  MONUMKNT. 


Eighty  thousand  persons  contributed  sums  averaging  seven 
dollars  and  fifty  cents  each,  or  in  all  about  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars. 

No  finer  location  for  such  a  monument  could  have  been 
selected.  It  stands  at  the  northerly  end  of  the  high  ridge,  in 
the  loop  of  the  Riverside  driveway,  just  at  the  point  where  two 
noble  views  are  obtained,  northward  up  the  Hudson  River  past 
the  Palisades,  and  southward  down  the  harbor. 

The  monument  itself  is  so  original,  so  unique  in  design  as 


with  a  double  row  of  granite  pillars,  over  which  is  inscribed, 
"  L^et  us  have  Peace." 

Even  granite  is  susceptible  to  erosion  by  the  elements. 
Consequently  the  best  possible  quality  of  stone  was  sought. 
Specimens  from  the  quarries  of  New  York,  Michigan,  Pennsyl- 
vania, Virginia  and  Rhode  Island  were  tested  by  the  committee 
and  found  unsatisfactory.  At  length  a  very  superior  granite 
was  discovered  far  in  the  interior  of  the  State  of  Maine. 

This  stone  is  very  light  in  color,  so  nearly  white,  indeed,  as 


to  startle  the  beholder  at 
first  sight ;  but  after  the 
first  impression  has  passed, 
the  grave  and  noble  sim- 
plicity of  the  architectural 
conception  commends  it  to 
the  soul.  It  dignifies  the 
fame  of  American  art,  for  the 
designer  was  our  country- 
man, Mr.  John  H.  Duncan. 


General  Grant's  Tomb. 


The  structure  consists  of 
a  huge  square  erection  of 
smooth  white  granite,  sur- 
mounted centrally  by  a 
capped  dome  encircled  by 
columns.  All  four  sides  are 
alike  except  the  south,  where 
there  is  an  entrance  portico. 


THE  GRANT  MONUMP:nT. 


6l 


to  resemble  marble,  and  be  mistaken  for  it  at  a  little  distance. 
It  is  quite  without  blemish  or  cleavage  sheen,  and  experts 
believe  it  will  resist  the  action  of  climate  for  many  centuries. 
The  cost  for  transportation,  labor  and  special  machinery  for 
working  it  was  very  great. 

Internally,  the  monument  is  occupied  entirely  by  the 
memorial  hall  and  central  pit,  or  crypt,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
stands  th^  great  granite  sarcophagus 
containing  the  coffin.  One  looks 
down  upon  it  from  the  main  floor 
through  a  circular  opening  eighteen 
feet  in  diameter,  surrounded  by  a 
heavy,  handsomely  wrought  rail. 

The  sarcophagus  itself  is  cut  from 
a  single  block  of  stone,  and  weighs 
about  five  tons.  It  rests  upon  a 
low  pedestal,  or  support,  of  Quincy 
granite.  The  crypt  is  about  fifteen 
feet  in  depth  below  the  floor  of  the  hall ;  on  either  side  are 
recesses  for  military  emblems  or  busts,  as  at  the  tomb  of 
Napoleon. 

The  ceiling  of  the  memorial  hall  consists  of  four  grand 
arches  springing  from  the  four  sides  of  the  edifice  and  of  the 
interior  of  the  dome,  the  central  point  of  which  is  a  hundred 
and  sixty-five  feet  above  the  floor.  There  are  no  columns  of 
support  here  ;  the  entire  weight  of  the  dome  rests  on  the  four 
great  corner  piers  of  the  structure,  which  contain  staircases  by 
which  visitors  may  ascend  to  the  circular  gallery  about  the 
dome,  a  hundred  feet  or  more  above  the  floor  of  the  hall. 

The  interior  work  is  of  marble,  both  Italian  and  American, 
but  has  been  kept  austerely  plain  and  free  of  ornamentation. 
Two  of  the  corner  piers  were  built  to  contain  cases  in  which 
to  show  the  swords,  medals  and  other  war  relics  of  General 
Grant. 

C.  A.  Stephens. 


The  Sarcophagus. 


Elevated  Railroads 


For  a  great  many  years  the  city  of  New  York  was  hindered 
from  making  its  natural  growth  by  the  lack  of  means  of  getting 
quickly  from  one  part  of  it  to  another. 

Manhattan  Island  is  long  and  narrow,  and  the  lower  end  is 
wholly  given  up  to  business.  A  ride  from  two  to  six  miles 
every  morning  and  evening  in  a  slowly  moving  street-car  takes 
too  much  valuable  time,  and  is  very  uncomfortable,  owing  to 
the  crowds  travelling  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  each  business 
day. 

There  were  only  three  ways  to  remedy  the  evil.  Horse- 
power had  to  be  given  up,  and  steam  or  electricity  used  with 
fast  trains  on  a  surface  railroad,  or  above  or  below  the  surface. 
The  dangers  of  a  surface  road  would  be  so  great  and  its 
interference  with  business  so  annoying  that  it  was  never 
seriously  considered.  The  great  objection  to  an  underground 
road  was  its  excessive  cost. 

The  elevated  road  was  unpopular  at  first.  An  experimental 
section  was  built,  which  was  afterward  extended,  so  that  for 
two  or  three  years  there  was  in  operation  a  railroad  on  stilts, 
running  from  the  Battery,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  city,  to 
Central  Park,  a  distance  of  about  five  miles. 

After  years  of  contest  for  right  of  way  and  popular  approval, 
a  system  of  elevated  railways  was  completed,  consisting  of 
four  lines.  They  start  from  the  Battery  with  one  double  track 
road  on  each  side  of  the  city,  then  each  separating,  the  two 
eastern  lines  run  to  the  Harlem  River,  and  of  the  western  roads 
one  ends  at  Central  Park  and  the  other  far  up  at  155th  Street. 

The  increasing  popularity  of  these  elevated  roads,  and  the 
rapid  rise  in  prices  of  land  in  the  upper  part  of  New  York,  as 
block  after  block  of  dwellings  was  erected,  naturally  influenced 
real  estate  men  in  Brooklyn  to  build  rapid  transit  roads  to  the 
outlying  districts  of  that  great  city. 


ELEVATED  RAItROADS. 


63 


The  completion  of  the  Brookhni  Bridge  removed  the  risk  of 
dela3's  by  the  ferries,  and  insured  a  quick  passage  from  New 
York  City  Hall  to  the  great  region  of  homes  across  East  River, 
b}^  the  lines  of  elevated  road  that  start  near  the  Brooklyn  end 
of  the  bridge  and  connect  with  other  roads  that  run  to  all 
parts  of  the  city  and  its  suburbs. 

In  some  streets  the  railroad  is  supported  b}'  a  single  line  of 


rOPyRIGHT,   1895.     LOEFFLER,  S.  I.,  N.  Y. 

Elevated  Road  in  the  Bowery. 


pillars  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  so  that  the  trains 
run  on  each  side  of  the  street.  In  other  streets  the  tracks  rest 
on  double  rows  of  pillars  connected  b}'  iron  girders.  The 
pillars  rise  from  the  sidewalks  in  narrow^  streets,  and  in  some 
places  from  the  central  part  of  the  wide  avenues. 

The  one-legged  system,  as  it  is  called,  looks  insecure  ;  but 


64 


EI.KVATED  RAII^ROADS. 


competent  engineers  say  it  is  perfectly  safe,  and  that  there  is 
more  danger  from  straining  the  works  in  the  direction  of  the 
road,  when  trains  are  started  or  stopped,  than  there  is  from 
giving  way  in  the  direction  across  the  track. 

The  stations  are  reached  by  long  flights  of  steps,  as  the 
road  runs  along  on  a  level  with  the  second-story  windows,  or 
higher.  Those  who  are  observant  will  notice  that  the  rails 
rest  on  sleepers  placed  more  closely  together  than  on  a  surface 
railroad,  that  the  rails  are  more  solidly  spiked  down,  and  that 
there  is  a  guard  inside  each  rail,  along  its  whole  length,  to 
prevent  cars  or  engines  from  running  off  the  track.  The  fare 
is  the  same  for  any  distance,  five  cents.  The  stations  are 
about  half  a  mile  apart,  or  less,  and  the  trains  do  not  stop 
except  at  the  stations. 

A  ride  on  the  elevated  railroad  is  a  pleasant  trip.  It 
gives  a  curious  sensation  at  first  to  be  whirled  along  over 
the  sidewalk,  so  near  to  the  second-story  windows  of  tenement- 
houses  that  you  could  see  what  the  families  living  there  had 
on  the  table  for  breakfast,  if  the  cars  did  not  go  so  fast ;  to 
look  down  upon  the  heavy  teams  jogging  along  in  the  street, 
or  to  watch  the  train  as  it  runs  upon  a  sharp  curve. 

Those  who  travel  every  day  soon  get  accustomed  to  the 
strangeness  of  the  trip,  and  think  no  more  of  it  than  farmers' 
boys  think  of  a  ride  in  a  hay-cart.  They  run  up  the  long 
stairway,  fling  down  a  nickel  and  snatch  the  ticket,  which  they 
drop  into  the  box  as  they  rush  to  the  cars.  They  quietly  read 
their  daily  paper  till  they  have  almost  reached  their  destination, 
when  they  push  to  the  doorway,  ready  to  step  off  as  soon  as 
the  guard  opens  the  gates. 

These  roads  are  a  great  blessing  to  New  York,  because 
they  enable  people  to  live  farther  away  from  the  centre  of  the 
city,  and  therefore  more  cheaply,  and  yet  lose  but  little  time  in 
travelling.  They  add  immensely  to  the  opportunities  of  New 
York  City  for  growing  in  business  and  wealth. 


Max  Owen. 


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